LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 

PRINCETON,   N.  J. 

Presented  by 

BX  9178  .J66  B76  1902 
Jowett,  John  Henry,  1864- 

1923. 
Brooks  by  the  traveller's 

way 


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Brooks  ^  ^ 

BY    THE    T<l<   '■««  ■■»•« 

Traveller's 

Vv  AY.  Ta*  T««  "^^ 


Brooks  w 

BY    THE 


Traveller's  Way 


/  BY 

J.   h/jOWETT,  M.A. 

CARRES      LANE,      BIRMINGHAM 
Author  of 

"APOSTOLIC    OPTIMISM" 

etc. 


Fifth   Thousand 


NEW    YORK 

A.  C.  ARMSTRONG  &  SON 

3  &  5  West  i8*^  Street,   Near  5*^  Avenue 

LONDON:  H.  R.  ALLENSON 
1902 


PRINTED     IN     ENGLAND. 


Foreword. 

The  addresses  in  this  volume  were  all 
originally  published  in  the  Examiner  newspaper, 
and  it  was  not  intended  by  Mr.  Jowett,  that 
they  should  ever  take  more  permanent  form. 
They  were  found,  however,  to  be  so  helpful  and 
stimulating  by  a  wide  circle  of  readers,  and  so 
many  requests  for  their  republication  were  re- 
ceived, that  it  has  been  resolved  to  issue  them 
in  the  present  volume,  with  the  hope  that  they 
may  appeal  for  good  to  a  still  larger  public.  As 
they  retain  the  form  of  spoken  rather  than 
written  addresses,  it  is  only  due  to  the  author 
that  this  much  should  be  stated. 

W.    B.    Selbie, 

(Editor  of   "  The  Exayniner,'' ) 


Contents. 


y. 


PAGE 

I.  Man's  Setting-  and  God's  Setting  -       9 

II.  Things  Concealed          -             -  -     16 

III.  "  Behind  and  Before  "-             -  -     22 

IV.  Spiritual  Culture            -             -  -     28 
V.  The  Secret  of  Hope     -             -  "34 

VI.  My  Need  of  Christ,  Christ's  Need  of  Me  41 

VII.  The  Shepherd  and  the  Sheep  -  -     48 

A^iii.  Lightening  the    Burden             -  "54 

IX.  ''  How  Much  More  !  "-             -  -     61 

/^    X.  No  Failing  !     No  Forsaking  !  -     69 

XI.  Perilous  Sleep  -             -             -  -     77 

XII.  Beauty  in  the  Heights              -  -     86 

xiii.  ''  Dying,  We   Live  "     -             -  "93 

XIV.  Statutes  become  Songs             -  -   102 

XV.  Unfulfilled  Impulse       -             -  -   iii 
XVI.  Destruction  by  Neglect             -  -   120 

XVII.  Desiring  and  Seeking-             -  -  128 

XVIII.  The  Forces  of  the  Kingdom  -  -   137 
XIX.  Saving  the  World         -             -  _   i^g 

XX.  The  Modesty  of  Love-             -  -  i57 

XXI.  Feverishness      -             -             _  .   164 

XXII.  The  Fruits  of  Godly  Fear       -  -   172 

XXIII.  The  Heavy   Laden        -             -  "   '79 

XXIV.  Overflowing  Sympathies            -  -   188 
XXV.  Strife  and  Vain  Glory  -             -  -   197 

XXVI.  "  He   Calleth  ....  by  Name  "  -  205 


u 

Man^s  Setting    and    God^s 
Setting* 

"  I  have  set." — Psalm  xvi.  8. 
'*  He  set." — Psalm  xl.  2. 

The  Bible  abounds  in  figures  representing  spiritual 
attitudes  and  the  Father's  gracious  response.  Man 
assumes  a  certain  posture  of  soul,  and  the  grace 
of  the  Lord  falls  upon  him  like  a  soft  and  inspiring 
light.  How  shall  I  dispose  my  life }  At  what 
angle  shall  I  incline  it  that  I  may  receive  this 
glorious  baptism  ?  I  find  the  requisite  suggestion 
in  a  verse  of  the  Psalmist, — "  I  have  set  the  Lord 
always  before  me."  That  is  a  "  setting "  on  my 
part,  which  will  issue  in  a  responsive  "  setting  "  on 
the  part  of  God.  I  determine  the  direction  of 
gaze ;  He  will  determine  the  character  of  my 
life.     I  '*  set  the  Lord  always  before  me  "  ;  He  will 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's  Way. 

"  set  my  feet  upon  a  rock."  He  will  "  set  my  feet 
in  a  large  place."  He  will  **  set  before  me  an  open 
door."  Let  us  consider  both  sides  of  the  wondrous 
fellowship,  the  steady  contemplation,  and  its  in- 
evitable results. 

L    Man's   Setting, 

"  I  have  set  the  Lord  always  before  me  "  (Psalm 
16,  8). 

You  are  away  from  home,  and  in  the  far-away 
city ;  before  you  retire  to  rest  you  take  out  of  your 
y  pocket  a  photograph,  and  gaze  upon  the  likeness 
of  your  wife  or  child.  How  calming  and  steadying 
is  the  influence  of  the  picture  as  you  set  it  before 
you !  One  of  Robertson's  congregation  at  Brighton 
used  to  keep  a  portrait  of  the  great  preacher  in 
the  room  behind  his  shop,  and  when  he  was 
tempted  to  any  mean  device,  he  would  set  the  like- 
ness before  him,  and  its  influence  determined  his 
inclination  in  the  way  of  truth.  But  it  is  not  the 
figure  of  any  earthly  personality,  however  noble 
and  ennobling,  which  is  the  object  of  the  Psalmist's 
contemplation.  He  "  sets  "  before  him  the  august 
and  holy  presence  of  God,  and  in  the  glory  of  His 
most  searching  light  all  the  Psalmist's  affairs  are 
determined. 

"  I  have  set  the  Lord  always  before  me."     It  is 

10 


Man's  Setting  and  Gods  Setting. 

not  a  temporary  vision ;  it  is  a  fixed  outlook.  It 
is  not  a  Sabbath  contemplation  ;  it  is  the  perma- 
nent background  of  the  week.  If  the  Lord  is 
"  always  before  me,"  then  everything  else  which 
may  obtrude  into  the  line  of  sight  will  be  seen  in 
relationship  to  God.  I  shall  see  nothing  by  itself ; 
everything  will  be  seen  in  divine  company. 
Everything  that  emerges  into  my  regard,  and 
which  demands  my  contemplation,  will  be  seen 
against  the  great  white  background  of  the 
Almighty.  I  will  judge  everything  by  its  appear- 
ance in  this  most  revealing  light.  How  does  a 
thing  look  with  God  in  the  background .?  My 
suggestions,  my  desires,  my  pleasures,  my 
ambitions,'  my  conversations,  my  business,  my 
prayers,'  shall  all  be  seen  in  this  heavenly 
relationship,  and  by  its  revelation  shall  their  true 
quality  be  judged  and  determined.  But  to  "  set 
the  Lord  always  before  me,"  not  only  implies  the 
possession  of  revealing  light ;  it  also  implies  a 
disposition  of  reverent  and  righteous  choice.  The 
man  who  "  sets  the  Lord  always  before  him  "  not 
only  discerns  the  real  nature  of  things ;  he  chooses  . 
the  worthy  and  repels  the  base.  To  "  set  the  Lord 
always  before  me  "  implies  another  "  setting  "  which 
is  expressed  by  the  prophet  Isaiah,  "  I  have  set 
my  face  like  a  flint."  That  which  is  unveiled  as 
unworthy  I  spurn  with  holy  contempt ;   the  revela- 

II 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

tion  creates  a  revulsion.  So  that  to  "  set  the  Lord  " 
before  one  expresses  a  two-fold  attribute  of 
character — the  attribute  of  clear  discernment  and 
ofjwise  and  sanctified  choice. 

IL     God's   Setting. 

The  man  who  steadily  contemplates  God  as  the 
abiding  background  of  all  his  affection  will  find  a 
spiritual  ministry  operating  in  his  life  with  most 
gracious  response.  Let  us  gather  up  two  or  three 
of  the  "  settings  "  which  are  the  happy  experiences 
of  those  who  set  their  mind  upon  God. 

(i)     "  He  set  my  feet  upon  a  rock!' 

The  shake  and  tremble  shall  go  out  of  life. 
Timidity  shall  be  changed  into  a  sense  of  firmness 
and  security.  The  loose,  uncertain  sand  and  gravel 
shall  be  consolidated  into  rock.  Loose  ideas  about 
the  right  shall  be  changed  into  strong  perceptions. 
Loose  principles  shall  be  converted  into  immovable 
convictions.  Vagrant  affection  shall  be  trans- 
figured into  steady  and  unwavering  love.  Weak 
will  shall  be  energised  into  mighty  powers  of  right- 
eousness. There  shall  be  about  the  entire  life  a 
firmness,  a  decisiveness,  a  sense  of  strength  and 
"  go  "  and  security,  analagous  to  the  feelings  of  a 

12 


Man^s  Setting  and  God^s  Setting. 

man  who  has  stepped  from  wet  slippery  clay  to   \ 
firm  and  solid  rock. 

(2)     "Thou  hast  set  my  feet  in  a  large  place!' 

The  Hfe  of  the  man  whose  gaze  is  fixed  upon 
God  shall  not  only  be  firm  but  roomy.  Everything 
about  his  spirit  shall  receive  enrichment.  The 
consecrated  life  is  not  lived  in  the  dark,  dank 
surroundings  of  a  narrow  cell.  Our  feet  are  set 
in  a  "  large  place."  Our  affections,  which  were 
dwarfed  and  petty,  become  spacious  and  inclusive. 
Our  pleasures  have  larger  skies  and  more  remote 
horizons.  The  enjoyments  of  the  unconsecrated 
life  were  only  as  the  uncertain  pools  and  puddles 
of  the  common  way.  "  Thou  shalt  make  us  to 
drink  of  the  river  of  Thy  pleasures."  The  only 
pleasures  that  are  denied  us  are  the  bewitching 
and  destructive  delights  of  the  flesh.  But  why 
should  we  mourn  that  they  are  gone  ?  It  would 
be  like  mourning  for  the  return  of  the  beclouding 
steam  that  dimmed  the  window-pane.  The  steam 
has  gone,  the  blinding  carnality  is  removed.  We 
have  now  an  outlook  over  the  large  and  beautiful 
realm  of  the  spirit.  Our  feet  are  "  set  in  a  large 
place."  Our  possibilities  are  enlarged.  There  are 
no  limits  to  the  power  of  our  becoming,  no  confines 
to  the  bounds  of  our  optimism.     Peak  upon  peak 

13 


Brooks  by  the   Traveller's  Way. 

rises  before  us,  and  we  cheerfully  entertain  the 
hope  of  standing  at  last  upon  the  ultimate  summit 
"  in  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of 
Christ." 

(3)     "/  have  set  before  thee  an  open  door!' 

The  life  that  is  lived  in  steady  contemplation  of 
God  is  not  only  firm  and  roomy,  but  is  characterised 
by  daily  enlargement.  Every  day  the  Lord  opens 
doors  to  the  consecrated  life.  Words  that  hitherto 
had  no  meaning  throw  open  their  doors  and  unveil 
their  wealth.  Promises  that  have  hitherto  been 
under  lock  and  key  fling  their  doors  ajar,  and  invite 
us  to  partake  of  their  treasure.  We  don't  know 
just  where  we  shall  find  the  open  door.  Sometimes 
a  lowly  service  confronts  us.  We  discharge  the 
humble  task,  and  in  the  act  of  obedience  we  find 
we  have  passed  through  an  open  door  into  an 
enlarged  conception  of  "  the  inheritance  of  the 
saints  in  light."  In  the  old  castle  at  Edinburgh, 
the  way  to  the  Crown  Jewels  leads  through  a  very 
humble  doorway  and  through  a  very  dingy  and 
circuitous  passage.  The  humble  doorways  of 
common  duties  are  frequently  the  way  to  the  room 
where  God  keeps  His  jewels.  The  Lord  is  ever 
giving  us  new  opportunities,  fresh  chances,  that 
day  by  day  we  may  grow  in  grace  and  in  the  know- 

14 


Man^s  Setting  and  God's  Setting. 

ledge  of  Him.  It  is  His  will  that  we  should  grow 
daily  in  finer  discernment,  richer  affection,  and 
more  brilliant  hope. 

Let  us  "  set  the  Lord "  always  before  us,  and 
life  in  its  inmost  depths  shall  be  wondrously 
transfigured.  We  shall  step  upon  rock,  we  shall 
live  in  a  large  place,  and  life  will  be  abundant  in 
opportunities  for  moral  and  spiritual  growth. 


15 


Things    Concealed* 

"  It  is  the  glory  of  God  to  conceal  a  thing  " — Prov.  xxv.  2. 

The  Lord  conceals  that  He  may  the  more  abun- 
dantly reveal.  He  hides  a  thing  in  order  that  we 
may  have  the  refining  discipline  of  seeking  for  it, 
and  enjoy  the  keen  delights  of  discovery.  Things 
which  are  come  at  easily  are  esteemed  lightly. 
The  pebble  that  lies  upon  the  common  way  is 
beneath  regard.  The  pearl  that  lies  buried  in 
ocean  depths  is  a  treasure  of  rare  price.  The  pain 
of  getting  intensifies  the  joy  of  possessing.  If 
everything  could  be  picked  up  from  the  surface, 
life  would  become  exceedingly  superficial.  But 
the  best  things  are  concealed.  "  The  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  like  unto  a  treasure  hid  in  a  field." 
We  have  to  dig  for  our  wealth.  We  are  called 
to  a  life  of  toil  and  discipline  and  research. 
Things  are  concealed  in  order  that  life  may  be 

16 


Things   Concealed 

a  perpetual  inquest.  The  only  healthy  life  is  the 
life  of  ardent  inquisitiveness.  "  Ask."  "  Seek." 
"Knock"; 

But  where  shall  I  make  my  search .''  I  never 
know  where  the  wealth  may  be  concealed.  The 
patch  of  ground  which  appears  to  be  the  most 
unpromising  may  be  the  hiding  place  of  the  finest 
gold.  Therefore  I  will  interrogate  the  common- 
place, I  will  search  into  the  humdrum  ways  of 
life  ;  I  will  pierce  into  the  heart  of  tame  and  sober 
duties ;  I  will  look  for  treasure  even  in  the  dark 
cloud.  I  will  assume  that  there  is  a  dowry  of 
grace  even  in  the  ministry  of  pain.  I  will  search 
for  the  wealth  of  poverty,  the  advantage  of  appar- 
ent disadvantage,  the  jewels  that  may  be  in  the 
heaviest  grief.  I  will  look  for  the  hidden  treasure, 
for  "  it  is  the  glory  of  God  to  conceal  a  thing." 

I.  It  is  the  glory  of  God  to  conceal  His 
teaching  in  the  hard  and  toilsome  ways  of 
experience. 

I  come  to  know  when  I  have  begun  to  do.  The 
doctrine  is  hidden  in  the  obedience.  "  If  any 
man  will  to  do,  he  shall  know."  Illumination 
breaks  out  in  the  ways  of  consecration.  The 
Bible  expresses  this  teaching  in  a  great  variety  of 
forms.  Here  is  a  beautiful  image  from  the  lips  of 
the  Psalmist.  ''Light  is  sown  for  the  righteous!' 
I    can    so   arrange   the    sowing    of   seed    that   my 

17  B 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's  Way. 

garden  is  never  without  flowers.  They  succeed 
one  another  in  appropriate  succession,  and  each 
month  is  adorned  with  its  own  distinctive  loveli- 
ness. I  think  of  next  March,  with  its  bleak  and 
chilly  east  winds.  I  imagine  its  prevailing 
desolations.  But  the  bulbs  are  sown  which,  when 
the  chilly  month  comes,  will  have  emerged  into 
beautiful  flower.  Now  hidden,  they  are  sown  for 
March,  and  at  the  appointed  time  they  will  appear 
in  their  radiant  robes.  And  there  are  chilly 
March  months  which  I  anticipate  in  the  round  of 
my  life,  the  season  of  cold  disappointment,  of 
heavy  perplexity,  of  dark  bereavement ;  but  "  the 
light  is  sown,"  and  when  the  chilly  month  comes, 
the  light  will  be  manifested  in  counsel  and  glory. 
Now  it  is  hidden  ;  when  it  is  needed  it  will  be 
found.  But  where  shall  I  find  it  ?  "  Light  is 
sown  for  the  righteous!'  Only  along  that  particular 
way  has  the  seed  been  sown.  No  light  has  been 
sown  in  the  ways  of  revolt,  and  if  I  journey  in 
these  paths  of  transgression,  the  March  season 
will  find  me  bereft  of  the  illumination  of  a  clear 
and  cheery  light.  Only  as  I  toil  along  the  way  of 
obedience,  the  way  of  righteousness,  shall  I  have 
gracious  surprises  of  light  which  the  loving  Lord 
has  sown  and  concealed  for  my  benediction. 

Here  is  another  word  from  the  old  book  sugges- 
tive of  the  same  teaching.      "  To  him  that  over- 

i8 


Things    Concealed* 

Cometh  will  I  give  of  the  hidden  mannas  There 
is  hidden  manna.  God  has  concealed  heavenly 
food,  nourishing  and  sustaining  vision.  Where  has 
He  concealed  it  ?  Just  beyond  the  fight.  "  To 
Him  that  overcometh  will  I  give."  The  fight  is 
followed  by  the  feast.  Every  conquest  leads  to 
the  discovery  of  hidden  manna.  You  fight  and 
overcome  the  devil,  and  immediately  you  are 
conscious  of  a  sweet  joy,  a  sense  of  satisfaction,  a 
wondrous  perception  of  the  fellowship  and  favour 
of  God.  It  is  the  hidden  manna.  "  Angels  came 
and  ministered  unto  Him."  This  gift  of  illumin- 
ation, and  this  feast  of  fat  things  do  not  come  to 
us  before  we  have  traversed  the  way  of  obedience. 
These  are  favours  that  are  hidden  in  the  very  midst 
of  the  toilsome  way,  for  it  is  "the  glory  of  God 
to  conceal  a  thing." 

2.  It  is  the  glory  of  God  to  conceal  His  fortune 
in  apparent  misfortune. 

We  often  find  that  the  "  valley  of  the  shadow  " 
gives  rest  to  eyes  which  had  become  wearied  with 
the  "  green  pastures,"  and  tired  with  the  gleaming 
of  the  "  still  waters."  It  is  sometimes  the  shadow 
that  "restoreth  our  soul."  The  darkness  often 
brings  the  healing  medicament.  In  the  apparent 
misfortune  the  Lord  has  hidden  a  fortune.  God 
has  concealed  His  riches  in  the  night.  The  over- 
cast sky  is  frequently  our  best  friend. 

19 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's   Way. 

"The  clouds  ye  so  much  dread 
Are  big  with  mercy,  and  shall  break 
In  blessing's  on  your  head," 

What  a  calamity  it  appeared  when  the  Apostle 
Paul  was  checked  in  his  missionary  career,  and 
imprisoned  in  custody  at  Rome.  It  appeared  as 
though  an  irrigating  river  had  been  dammed  up, 
and  had  become  a  localised  lake.  His  evangel 
appeared  to  be  confined,  and  his  activities  para- 
lysed. But  it  was  "  the  glory  of  God  to  conceal  a 
thing."  The  misfortune  was  only  the  shrine  of  a 
larger  fortune.  The  Apostle  cries  with  great 
jubilation — "  The  things  that  happened  unto  me 
have  turned  out  rather  for  the  furtherance  of  the 
Gospel."  Out  of  his  activity  there  came  glorious 
letters  which  have  guided  and  cheered  the 
pilgrimage  of  a  countless  host. 

Pain  comes  to  be  my  guest.  My  powers  are 
wasted,  and  I  am  burdened  with  the  dark  com- 
panionship. I  call  it  a  calamity,  or  I  regard  it  as 
a  sore  misfortune  ;  but  how  often  it  has  turned 
out  that  the  calamity  was  only  the  dark  vesture 
of  benediction.  In  my  suffering  I  gained  a  wider 
sympathy.  My  responsiveness  was  enriched. 
"  Thou  hast  enlarged  me  when  I  was  in  distress." 

Disappointment  flings  a  barrier  across  my  path. 
My  purposes  are  thwarted.  My  ambitions  are 
checked.     There  comes  an   imperative   "  hall "   in 

ao 


Things   Concealed. 

my  life.  I  regard  it  as  an  ill  day,  and  }'et  how 
often  the  apparently  ill  thing  contains  a  jewel. 
Disappointment  makes  me  think  I  take  a  wider 
view  of  things.  Through  my  thoughtfulness  I 
attain  to  a  finer  discernment  Such  is  the  gracious 
nutriment  that  is  often  hidden  in  a  prickly  burr. 
The  dark  misfortune  was  only  "  the  shadow  of  the 
Almighty." 

3.  It  is  the  glorv'  of  the  Lord  to  conceal  His 
power  in  apparently  contemptible  agents. 

We  never  know  where  the  Lord  is  preparing 
His  instruments.  Their  emergence  is  usually 
creative  of  surprise.  God  hides  His  preparations 
in  such  strange  places.  He  wants  a  missionary  for 
the  New  Hebrides,  and  He  fashions  him  in  a 
peasant's  cottage  at  Dumfries.  Three  of  the  most 
stalwart  and  fruitful  labourers  in  modern 
Methodism  were  reared  in  a  labourer's  hut  God 
so  frequently  deserts  conspicuous  spheres,  and 
nourishes  His  great  ones  in  the  obscure  corners  of 
the  world.  Perhaps  the  mightiest  spiritual 
ministr}',  now  being  exerted  in  our  country,  is 
proceeding  from  the  life  of  some  unknown  and 
unrecognised  woman,  Hving  a  strong  and  beautiful 
life  in  cramped  and  abject  material  conditions. 
"  Things  that  are  despised  hath  God  chosen,  yea, 
and  things  that  are  not"  He  makes  the  nobodies 
and  the  nothings  into  kings  and  queens. 

21 


>lk0^ 


www 

iiu 

^'Behind   and   Before/' 

*'  Thou  hast  beset  me  behind  and   before,  and  laid   Thine 
hand  upon  me." — Psalm  cxxxix.  5. 

"  Thou  hast  beset  me  behind !"  He  deals  with 
the  enemy  in  the  rear,  the  foe  that  lurks  in  my 
yesterdays.  He  does  not  ignore  the  dark  heritage 
that  bears  down  upon  me  from  the  past.  "  And 
before!"  He  deals  with  the  enemy  in  the  front, 
the  foe  that  seems  to  hide  in  my  to-morrows. 
"  And  laid  Thine  hand  upon  me !"  He  deals  with 
the  immediate  contingency,  and  gives  me  a  present 
consciousness   of  ample   defence   and  security. 

But  does  He  perfectly  understand  me  ?  Does 
He  know  my  idiosyncrasies  ?  Is  He  intimate  with 
my  peculiar  weaknesses  ?  Does  He  know  where 
the  hedge  is  thin  and  vulnerable,  and  where  my 
life  is  most  easily  invaded  and  defiled  ?  Does  He 
know  where  defences  are  more  specially  required  ? 

22 


''Behind   and   Before/' 

Let  us  seek  the  answer  in  the  earher  verses  of  the 
Psalm,  and  let  the  spacious  experience  of  the 
psalmist  be  interpreted  as  revealing  the  Almighty's 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  individual  life. 

L     God's   Intimate   Knowledge  of  the 
Individual   Life* 

"  0  Lord,  Thou  hast  searched  me!'  The  exam- 
ination has  been  most  thorough  and  penetrating. 
Every  nook  and  corner  has  been  explored. 
Nothing  has  been  overlooked,  unrecognised, 
unnamed.     "  I,  the  Lord,  search  the  heart." 

"  And  known  me!'  It  is  the  knowledge  of  an 
intimate  friend.  I  require  knowing.  I  am  often 
misunderstood.  The  unexplored  is  so  frequently 
the  misjudged.  The  Lord  knows  me.  "  I  know 
my  sheep." 

"  Thou  knowest  my  downsitting!'  He  is  present 
in  my  seasons  of  meditation,  in  the  hours  when  I 
sit  down  to  think  ^nd  plan  and  devise,  and  when 
the  formative  purposes  of  life  are  chosen  and 
shaped. 

''And  mine  uprising!'  He  is  an  intimate 
presence  when  meditation  is  ended,  and  the 
moment  of  execution  has  arrived.  He  knows 
when  my  purpose  becomes  an  action,  when  "  I  will 
arise "  has  passed  into  "  he  arose,"  and  resolution 
is  being  fulfilled. 

23 


(\ .r 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's  Way. 

''Thou  under standest  my  thought  afar  off!'  He 
discerns  the  faintest  beginnings  of  purpose.  He 
detects  the  mental  germs.  He  sees  my  thought 
long  before  it  is  incarnated  in  an  act.  He  sees  it 
"  afar  off,"  when  it  is  only  a  trembling  suggestion, 
and  when  it  passes  almost  imperceptibly  across  the 
threshold  of  the  mind. 

''Thou  sear  chest  out  my  path!'  He  knows  the 
way  I  take  to  achieve  my  purposes.  He  knows 
all  the  windings  of  the  road.  He  knows  when  it 
is  "  straight  "  and  when  it  is  "  crooked."  He  knows 
all  the  means  I  employ.  "  He  is  acquainted  with 
all  my  ways." 

"There  is  not  a  word  in  my  tongue,  but  lo!  0 
Lord,  Thou  knowest  it  altogether!^  He  watches 
hfe  as  it  blossoms  at  the  lips.  He  marks  the 
kindly  vehicle  of  grace.  He  notes  the  ungainly 
vehicle  of  malice  and  ill-will.  He  knows  the  con- 
tents of  all  my  intercourse,  and  how  it  is  determined 
and  coloured  by  the  threats  and  flatteries  of  men. 

Surely  this  God  knows  me!  He  is  intimate 
with  my  personal  "make-up,"  with  my  own 
peculiar  weaknesses,  and  knows  just  what  is 
needed    to   render    me   strong   and   invulnerable. 

IL    The   Security  Given» 

I.  "Thou  hast  beset  me  behind!'  He  stands 
between  me  and  my  enemies  in  the   rear.       He 

24 


*' Behind   and   Before/' 

defends  me  from  the  hostility  of  my  own  past.  He 
does  not  cut  me  away  from  my  yesterdays.  Con- 
sequences are  not  annihilated ;  their  operations 
are  changed.  They  are  transformed  from  destruc- 
tives into  constructives.  The  sword  becomes  a 
ploughshare ;  the  implement  of  destruction 
becomes  an  agent  of  moral  and  spiritual  culture. 
The  Lord  "  besets  me  behind "  and  the  sins  of 
yesterday  no  longer  send  their  poisoned  swords 
into  my  life.  They  are  changed  into  the  ministers 
of  a  finer  culture,  nourishing  godly  sorrow,  and 
humility,  and  meekness,  and  self-mistrust.  The 
failures  and  indiscretions  of  yesterday  are  no 
longer  creatures  of  moral  impoverishment  and 
despair.  He  "  besets  me  behind,"  and  they 
become  the  teachers  of  a  quiet  wisdom  and  well- 
proportioned  thought. 

2.  "  And  before''  He  comes  between  me  and 
the  enemy  that  troubles  me  from  to-morrow,  the 
foe  that  lies  ambushed  in  futurity  and  disturbs  the 
peace  of  to-day.  And  so  He  deals  with  my  fears 
and  anxieties,  and  repeats  the  miracle  of  trans- 
formation, and  changes  them  from  swords  into 
ploughshares.  He  changes  destructive  anxiety 
into  a  constructive  thoughtfulness.  He  converts 
a  lacerating  fretfulness  into  an  energetic  content- 
ment. He  transforms  an  abject  fear  into  a  holy 
reverence.     He  takes  the  terror  out  of  to-morrow, 

25 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's  Way. 

and  enables  me  to  live  and  labour  in  a  fruitful 
calm. 

3.  ''And  laid  Thine  hand  upon  me''  And 
the  hand  suggests  the  sweet  sense  of  companion- 
ship. The  little  child  awakes  in  the  night,  and 
is  affrighted  by  the  darkness  and  the  stillness, 
but  the  mother  puts  out  her  hand  and  just  rests 
it  upon  her  troubled  babe,  and  the  little  one  sinks 
to  rest  again.  "  O,  let  me  feel  Thee  near  me!" 
"  Only  in  the  darkness  just  to  feel  Thy  hand." 

And  the  hand  suggests  the  ministry  of  soothing. 

The  nurse  lays  her  cool  hand  upon  the  burning 

brow  of  her  patient,  and  he  exclaims,  "  How  lovely 

that  is!"     And  when  I  come  into  a  sudden  crisis 

in  life,  and  am  tempted  to  become  feverish,  and 

"  heated  hot  with  burning  fears,"   the   Lord  lays 

His  cooling  hand  upon  me,  and  I  grow  calm  again. 

"  And  Jesus  touched  her,  and  the  fever  left  her." 

And  the  hand  suggests  the  ministry  of  guidance. 

That  is  a  most  suggestive  word,  constantly  in  the 

book  of  the  prophet  Isaiah :  "  And  the  Lord  said 

junto  me  with  a  strong  hand."     Speech  by  strange 

\  graspings !      Suggestion  by  grips !      Guidance  by 

the    creation    of   a    mighty  impulse !      The    Lord 

declared    His    will    unto    the    prophet    Isaiah    by 

implanting  in  his  life  the  sense  of  a  tremendous 

imperative,     a    terrific     "  must,"     a     consciousness 

which  the  prophet  expressed  under  the  symbol  of 

26 


'^  Behind   and   Before/' 

the  grasp  of  a  "  strong  hand."     "  Thy  right  hand 
shall  guide  me." 

With  these  defences  we  are  safe.  In  these  hands 
our  security  is  complete.  "  None  shall  pluck  them 
out  of  My  hand."  "  Into  Thy  hands,  O  Lord,  I 
commit  my  spirit." 


27 


Spiritual    Culture* 

"Teach  me  Thy  way." — Psalm  Ixxxvi.  ii. 
**  Teach  me  to  do  Thy  will." — Psalm  cxliii.  jo. 
*•  I  delight  to  do  Thy  vi'xW."— Psalm  xl.  8. 

"Teach  me  Thy  way!'  Refine  my  conscience. 
Make  my  sense  of  right  and  wrong  clear  and 
definite.  Suffer  me  not  to  grope  in  moral  con- 
fusion. Train  me  in  a  fine  discernment  of  moral 
values.  Let  me  gro\v  ever  more  and  more 
exquisite  in  the  perception  of  the  spiritually  lovely. 

"Teach  me  to  do  Thy  will!'  I  want  more  than 
a  fine  sense  of  moral  distinctions.  I  need  more 
than  a  rare  perception  of  right.  I  need  to  know 
the  best  way  to  accomplish  it.  There  are  wise 
and  unwise  ways  of  seeking  the  sovereignty  of  the 
right.  I  may  fail  of  the  end  by  using  indiscreet 
means.     I   require  not  only  a  trained  conscience, 

28 


Spiritual   Culture^ 

but  an  illumined  judgment.     I  need  to  be  taught 
how  "  to  do!' 

'7  delight  to  do  Thy  wilir  That  marks  a  still 
more  matured  stage  in  discipleship.  When  the 
soul  instinctively  and  joyfully  inclines  to  the  way 
of  obedience,  the  life  has  reached  a  stage  of  rare 
fruition. 

§  And  so  the  scattered  verses  of  my  text 
arrange  themselves  in  a  heightening  gradation, 
and  together  express  the  spacious  com^pass  of  a 
consecrated  Hfe.  "Teach  me  Thy  way" — the 
training  of  the  conscience.  "  Teach  me  to  do  Thy 
will" — the  illumination  of  the  judgment.  "I 
delight  to  do  Thy  will " — the  rectification  of  the 
will. 

L    The  Training  of  the  Conscience. 

"  Teach  me  Thy  way."  The  conscience  is  the 
organ  through  which  the  Lord  makes  known  to 
me  His  way,  and  unveils  the  primary  distinctions 
between  right  and  wrong.  The  more  refined  and 
highly  trained  is  the  organ,  the  more  exquisite 
will  be  its  perceptions.  The  greater  sensitiveness 
of  the  telephonic  receiver  has  vivified  the  clearness 
and  the  detail  of  the  message.  But  the  organ  of 
conscience  can  be  impaired  and  its  receptivity 
largely  destroyed. 

29 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's  Way. 

(i)  //  can  be  injured  by  sin. 

John  Ruskin's  father  would  never  allow  him  to 
gaze  upon  any  inferior  picture  lest  his  artistic  sense 
should  be  impaired.  A  similar  reasoning  might 
be  followed  in  relation  to  the  moral  sense.  To 
contemplate  the  morally  inferior,  to  gaze  upon  the 
ugly,  to  have  intercourse  with  sin,  damages  the  fine 
delicacy  of  this  sensitive  organ. 

(2)  //  can  be  perverted  by  prejudice. 

If  conscience  be  regarded  as  a  light  "which 
lighteth  every  man  that  cometh  into  the  world," 
then  it  is  within  our  power  to  put  up  a  stained 
window  and  pervert  the  light.  We  can  erect  the 
coloured  medium  of  a  prejudice  or  a  spirit  of  envy, 
or  a  jealousy,  and  the  light  we  then  receive  is  in 
reality  "  darkness."  We  walk  in  the  darkness, 
and  our  errors  re-act  upon  the  conscience,  and 
injure  its  exquisite  perceptions. 

(3)  //  can  be  muffled  by  compromise. 

All  attempts  to  find  a  go-between  in  matters  of 
right  and  wrong  inevitably  issue  in  the  muffling  of 
the  conscience.  There  are  tradesmen  who,  on  the 
Sabbath,  compromise  with  their  sense  of  right 
by  putting  up  two  shutters  to  their  shop  window, 
and  then  behind  the  shutters  they  continue  their 
business  as  on  any  other  day  of  the  week.  Those 
two  shutters  play  a  large  part  in  the  destruction 
of  the  finer  parts  of  the  moral  life.     If  the  Lord  is 

30 


Spiritual   Culture. 

to  teach  us  Plis  way,  to  lead  us  into  deeper  and 
more  fruitful  perceptions,  all  these  things  must  be 
forsaken.  He,  who  is  the  Teacher,  will  be  our 
Defender ;  He  who  gives  the  revelation  to  con- 
science is  willing  to  provide  the  power  by  which 
the  accuracy  of  the  conscience  may  be  preserved. 
Now  all  training  of  the  conscience  proceeds  in 
the  direction  of  the  scruple.  In  moral  and 
spiritual  culture  the  line  of  progress  is  not  from 
the  less  to  the  greater,  but  from  the  greater  to  the 
less.  A  man  can  measure  the  increasing  refine- 
ment of  his  conscience  by  its  more  pervasive 
activity  in  the  trifle.  The  path  of  perfection  leads 
towards  a  "  faithfulness  in  that  which  is  least," 
It  is  "  he  that  doeth  the  least,"  v/hom  the  Lord 
accounts  as  great.  "  Teach  me  Thy  way."  Train 
my  conscience.  Educate  it.  Breathe  upon  it  Thy 
refining  breath,  that  in  the  smallest  affairs  I  may 
discern  the  secret  of  the  Lord. 

IL    The   Illumination  of  the  Judgment. 

"  Teach  me  to  do."  A  man  may  know  the  right 
to  aim  at,  and  may  take  an  unwise  way  to  reach 
it.  He  may  have  a  good  conscience  and  be  pos- 
sessed of  little  tact.  He  may  be  conscientious  but 
not  resourceful.  He  may  have  fine  moral  discern- 
ment, but  poor  practical  judgment.     We  often  dim 

31 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's  Way* 

and  imperil  the  end  by  the  unwisdom  of  our  means. 
Much  good  work  is  spoiled  by  ill-judged  method. 
A  man  may  speak  to  his  fellow  man  concerning 
the  matter  of  his  salvation,  and  he  may  altogether 
impair  the  beautiful  purpose  by  an  ill-considered 
approach.  We  require  not  only  refined  conscience 
but  illumined  judgment,  and  so  the  Psalmist  prays, 
"  Lead  me  in  Thy  truth,  and  teach  me!'  Knowing 
the  truth,  he  prays  for  knowledge  to  apply  it. 
In  short,  he  needs  a  sound  judgment.  He  requires 
to  be  taught  how  "  to  do  "  the  will. 

Now  what  is  the  secret  of  wise  judgment  ? 
Does  it  not  consist  very  largely  in  the  active 
exercise  of  the  imagination  ?  A  man  of  sound 
judgment  is  a  man  who  looks  all  round  a  thing, 
and  to  do  this  requires  the  use  of  a  disciplined 
imagination.  Wellington  used  to  say  that  one  of 
the  great  secrets  of  successful  generalship  was  the 
power  to  imagine  what  was  going  on  behind  a 
stone  wall.  That  is  the  faculty  we  require  in 
common  life,  the  power  to  imagine  what  is  going 
on  in  our  brother's  life,  the  power  to  "  put  ourselves 
in  his  place."  Imagination  is  the  twin  sister  to 
sympathy  They  move  together.  If  we  had  a 
broader  and  more  responsive  sympathy,  we  should 
have  a  quicker  and  more  alert  imagination.  A 
more  spacious  sympathy  and  a  more  active  imagin- 
ation would  give  us  two  of  the  main  essentials  of 

32 


spiritual   Culture. 

a  sound  judgment.  When  we  pray,  therefore, 
"  Teach  me  to  do,"  we,  in  reahty,  ask  the  Lord  to 
enrich  the  stock  of  our  humanity,  to  make  us  more 
human  and  less  self-centred,  to  broaden  the 
responsive  service  of  our  life.  "  I  will  run  the 
way  of  Thy  commandments  when  Thou  shalt 
enlarge  my  heart." 

IIL     The  Rectifying  of  the  Will* 

"  I  delight  to  do  Thy  will."  "  I  delight,"  which, 
literally  interpreted,  means,  "  I  am  bent,"  to  do  Thy 
will.  The  inclinations  of  life  are  instinctively  set 
in  the  way  of  obedience.  The  sense  of  constraint 
and  reluctance  is  absent.  The  bent  of  the  hfe  is 
God-ward,  and  the  bent  abides.  This  represents 
a  fine  and  mature  attainment.  What  at  first  was 
constrained  has  come  at  length  to  be  natural.  He 
who  says  "  I  will  incline  my  heart  unto  Thy  testi- 
monies," and  will  resolutely  incline  it  every  moment, 
day  by  day,  will  at  length  be  able  to  sing,  "  O  God ! 
my  heart  is  fixed."  When  the  spiritual  becomes 
natural,  we  have  entered  into  the  joy  of  the  Lord. 
When  our  obedience  has  become  instinctive,  "  His 
statutes  have  become  our  song."  "We  dehght  to 
do  His  wiU." 


33 


The   Secret   of   Hope. 

"  Now  the  Qpd  of  hope  fill  you  with  all  joy  and  peace  in 
believing,  that  ye  may  abound  in  hope,  in  the  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost." — Romans  xv,  i-]. 

What  a  radiant  assembly  of  jewels!  It  would 
scarcely  be  possible  to  bring  together  into  two 
short  sentences  a  larger  company  of  resplendent 
words,— "  God,"  "hope,"  "joy,"  "peace,"  "believ- 
ing," "  power,"  "  Holy  Ghost "  !  A  prayer  which 
in  almost  one  sentence  encompasses  these  spacious 
benedictions  must  have  issued  from  a  very  exul- 
tant spirit,  and  one  deeply  acquainted  with  "  the 
unsearchable  riches  of  Christ."  If  we  re-arrange 
the  members  of  the  text  in  vital  and  logical  order, 
the  two  extreme  limbs  would  appear  to  be  these : 
"  The  God  of  Hope,"  and  "  That  ye  may  abound 
in  hope."  The  one  expresses  the  creative  ministry, 
the  other  expresses  the  created  result.  The  text 
describes  the  making  of  optimists, — the  "  God  of 

34 


The   Secret   of  Hope. 

Hope "  fashioning  the  children  of  hope.  The 
remainder  of  the  passage  points  out  the  gracious 
intermediaries  by  which  the  divine  purpose  is 
accompHshed. 

L    The  Great  Creative    Source.    **The  God 
of  Hope/* 

There  are  some  matches  which  can  only  be 
kindled  on  one  kind  of  surface.  We  may  rub 
them  on  an  unsuitable  surface  through  a  very  long 
day,  and  no  spark  will  be  evoked.  The  finei 
effective  flame  of  hope  can  only  be  kindled  upon' 
one  surface.  The  human  must  come  into  contact 
with_  the  divine.  Where  else  can  the  holy  fire  be 
kindled  .'*  A  mother  is  in  despair  about  her  son. 
His  face  is  set  in  the  ways  of  vice,  and  his 
imagination  is  being  led  captive  by  the  devil. 
How  shall  I  quicken  the  mother's  hope,  the  hope 
which  is  so  fruitful  in  loving  devices  ?  I  will  tell 
her  that  it  is  a  long  lane  that  has  never  a  turning. 
I  will  tell  her  that  the  fiercest  fire  burns  itself  out 
at  last.  But  these  worldly  proverbs  awaken  no 
fervent  response.  The  depression  remains  heavy 
and  cold.  The  match  does  not  strike.  I  must 
lead  her  to  "  the  God  of  Hope."  A  brother  is  dis- 
couraged because  of  his  moral  and  spiritual 
bondage.     How  shall  I  kindle  his  hope.?     I  will 

35 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

point  out  to  him  the  lofty  ideal,  and  let  the 
dazzling  splendour  of  the  supreme  heights  break 
upon  his  gaze.  But  the  ideal  only  emphasises  and 
confirms  his  pessimism.  I  will  then  turn  his 
eyes  upon  inferior  men,  and  point  out  to  him  men 
who  are  more  demoralised  than  himself.  But  the 
vision  of  the  inferior  is  only  creative  of  self-conceit. 
A  fine  efficient  hope  is  not  yet  born.  The  match 
does  not  strike.  I  must  lead  him  to  "  the  God  of 
Hope."  It  is  in  God  that  assurance  is  born,  and 
a  fruitful  optimism  sustained.  We  must  get  our 
fire  at  the  divine  altar. 


IL    The  Gift  of  Inspiration.     **  In   the   Power 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.** 

The  "  God  of  Hope,"  in  the  pursuit  of  his  purpose 
to  create  children  of  hope,  plants  in  their  life  the 
inspiring  presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  Scrip- 
tures compare  the  ministry  of  this  presence  to  the 
influence  of  a  wind,  an  atmosphere,  a  breathing. 

I.  It  is  quickening.  Like  the  air  of  the  spring 
time.  Buried  or  sleeping  powers  awake  and  bud, 
and  clothe  themselves  in  grace  and  beauty.  I 
become  conscious  of  new  and  increased  capacities, 
new  powers  of  love,  and  faith,  and  spiritual 
discernment.     "  In  Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive." 

36 


The  Secret  of  Hope. 

"  The  last  Adam  was  made  a  quickening  spirit." 

2.  //  is  bracing.  How  easy  it  is  to  make  long 
journeys  in  fine,  bracing  air!  Five  miles  in  the 
city  wearies  one  more  than  twenty  miles  in  the 
Lake  District.  The  Holy  Spirit  breathes  through 
the  life  a  bracing,  invigorating  influence.  My 
powers  are  at  their  best.  I  am  able  to  persist, 
able  to  endure.     "  They  shall  walk  and  not  faint." 

3.  It  is  revealing.  It  is  the  clean,  clear  air 
which  unveils  the  panoramas.  When  the  Holy 
Spirit  possesses  me  I  "  see  visions."  I  "  grow  in 
knowledge."       "  He  shall  lead  you  into  all  truth." 

These  are  some  of  the  ministries  which  are 
implied  in  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  They  are 
the  primary  requisites  in  the  production  of  an 
optimist. 


IIL     The  Creation  of  an  Equable  Temperament* 
**  Filled  with  all  Joy  and   Peace/* 

The  life  that  is  possessed  by  the  pervasive 
"  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit "  will  acquire  the 
fruitful,  equable  temperament  of  "  joy  and  peace." 

I.  Joy.  Not  a  scintillating,  transient  happi- 
ness, but  a_permanent  cheeriness.  Life  shall  be 
lived  in  the  light.  "  Lift  upon  us  the  light  of  Thy 
countenance."       It  is  that  light,  the  light  of  the 

37 


l\ 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

countenance,  which  rests  upon  the  Hfe.  What  a 
difference  the  sunhght  makes  to  the  landscape ! 
It  transfigures  and  beautifies  the  commonplace. 
What  a  difference  a  smile  makes  upon  a  plain  face ! 
The  plain  face  is  glorified.  The  sunshine  of  the 
Lord's  favour  upon  the  life — that  is,  Christian 
cheeriness  and  joy.  "  Now  are  ye  light  in  the 
Lord."  "  The  God  of  Hope  fill  you  with  all  joy" 
Every  room  in  the  house  illumined !  God's  grace 
resting  upon  everything!  The  sunshine  in  every 
corner — upon  the  affections,  upon  the  judgment, 
upon  the  conscience ;  everything  suffused  in  the 
"  light  of  life." 

^.     Peace.     A  deep,  quiet  sense  of  rightness  in 
the  background.      It  does  not  imply  the  absence 
,  of  tribulation,  but  it  suggests  an  abiding  conscious- 
ness that ;  fundamentally  we   are  right  with   God. 
A  man  can  go  happily  through  a  hard  day's  work 
if  everything  is  right  at  home.     If  things  are  wrong 
there,  all  the  work  of  the  day  is  haunted  and  im- 
paired, and  every  moment  is  weighted  with  the 
burden  of  years.     A  man  can  encounter  much  tribu- 
lation, and  encounter  it  calmly  if  everything  is  right 
at  home,  if  all  is  well  between  him  and  his  God. 
"Peace"  is  just  that  sense  of  rightness  with  God.) 
"  It  is  well,  it  is  well  with  my  soul !"     The  presence 
(V  and  power  of  the   Holy  Spirit   are   creative   of  a 

temperament  of  mingled  joy  and  peace. 

38 


The  Secret  of   Hope. 

IV.    The   Consequent   Optimism.     **  That   Ye 
may   abound   in   Hope.** 

Surely  this  appears  as  quite  an  inevitable  issue. 
If  life  is  inspired  by  the  presence  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  quickened,  braced,  and  taught  by  His  power, 
and  possessed  of  a  temperament  of  joy  and  peace, 
it  will  "  abound "  in  large  and  fructifying  hope. 
I  shall  "  abound  in  hope  "  concerning  myself,  that 
at  length  I  shall  stand  before  my  God  clothed  in 
the  white  robes  of  a  perfected  hfe.  I  shall 
"  abound  in  hope  "  concerning  my  brother.  I  shall 
never  regard  him  as  "  past  praying  for."  I  shall 
hope  "  all  things,"  even  when  confronted  with  the 
stupendous  power  of  majestic  vice.  "  The  day  will 
dawn  and  darksome  night  be  past."  The  "  God  of 
Hope,"  through  the  ministry  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  the  creation  of  a  cheery  and  equable  dis- 
position, will  make  me  to  "  abound  in  hope." 

There  are  two  words  in  the  great  text  which 
have  not  yet  been  quoted — "  In  beheving."  They 
describe  the  link  which  binds  the  despondent  and 
the  pessimistic  soul  to  the  "  God  of  Hope."  Shall 
we  rather  say,  they  describe  the  channel  by  which 
the  quickening  and  cheermg  influence  of  "  the  God 
of  Hope  "  is  conveyed  to  the  depressed  and  dis- 
quieted life .''  Belief  is  an  attitude  of  soul  which 
implies    both    alliance    and    reliance — a    surrender 

39 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

and  a  trust.  To  lay  down  the  will  at  the  King's 
feet :  to  make  His  will  my  choice :  to  attempt 
obedience  in  dependence  upon  His  grace  :  this  is 
the  very  secret  of  practical  belief.  "  Believing," 
I  receive  "  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost " ;  and 
"  the  God  of  Hope  "  fills  me  with  all  joy  and  peace, 
that  I  "  may  abound  in  hope,"  and  in  all  the 
sanctifying  energies  of  this  endless  life. 


40 


vi. 


My   Need   of   Christ, 
Christ's   Need   of  Me. 

"  I  am  the  vine  ;  ye  are  the  branches." — John  xv.  ^, 

The  Bible  appears  to  exhaust  all  available  figures 
in  describing  the  intimate  relationship  which  exists 
between  the  Lord  and  His  own.  All  the  most 
subtle  and  vital  associations  are  laid  hold  of  to 
shadow  forth  the  wonderful  fellowship  which  unites 
God  and  the  children  of  God.  The  exquisite  fit- 
ness of  the  one  to  the  other  is  suggested  by  such 
relationships  as  hunger  and  bread,  thirst  and  water, 
and  the  intimacy  of  their  united  lives  is  unveiled 
in  the  figures  of  the  vine  and  its  branches,  the 
head  and  its  members,  the  bridegroom  and  the 
bride.  It  is  around  the  first  of  these  symbols  that 
we  will  concentrate  the  thought  of  this  meditation. 

41 


Brooks  by  the    Traveller's  Way. 

L    **I  am  the  Vine;  Ye  are  the  Branches/' 

Then  man  can  only  realise  himself  in  union  with 
the  Christ. 

The  branch  cannot  realise  itself  apart  from  the 
Vine.  Its  powers  remain  latent  and  unexpressed. 
Its  capabilities  remain  undeveloped  and  uncon- 
ceived.  If  the  branch  is  to  burst  into  bud  and  leaf 
and  flower  and  fruit,  its  resources  must  be  drawn 
from  the  Vine.  It  has  no  sap  of  its  own  creation. 
Its  quickening  and  sustaining  power  can  be  ob- 
tained only  by  association.  Its  ideal  is  realised 
by  an  alliance  which  engages  the  tissues  of  its 
most  inward  parts. 

Man  can  only  come  to  himself  by  an  intimate 
alliance  with  Christ.  Apart  from  Christ  man  is 
never  consummated.  The  force  is  wanting  which 
would  bring  his  powers  to  fruition.  If  his 
capabilities  are  to  become  abilities,  if  his  possi- 
bilities are  to  ripen  into  actualities,  if  the  human 
branch  is  to  break  into  bud,  and  flower,  and  fruit, 
and  life  is  to  receive  its  appropriate  crown,  man 
must  enter  into  profound  and  hearty  fellowship 
with  Christ.  Every  part  of  man's  varied  and  com- 
posite personality  will  receive  enrichment  when  the 
energising  sap  of  the  Lord  flows  in  the  deep  and 
hidden  parts  of  his  life. 

42 


My   Need   of   Christ. 

(i)  May  we  assume  a  physical  quickening? 
Why  should  we  shrink  from  the  assertion  that  if 
the  branch  comes  into  union  with  the  Vine,  even 
the  physical  powers  will  be  purified  and  strength- 
ened ?  Surely  it  is  not  illegitimate  reasoning  to 
assume  that  virtue  is  a  finer  health-minister  than 
vice.  We  do  not  make  nearly  sufficient  allowance 
for  the  influence  of  the  spirit  upon  the  body.  The 
hopeful  temperament  is  very  frequently  a  more 
potent  element  than  the  doctor's  medicine  in  rid- 
ding the  body  of  sickness  and  disease.  Get  a  clean,  i 
sanctified  spirit  into  the  body,) and  the  influences, 
even  upon  the  flesh,  must  be  very  different  from 
the  influences  which  proceed  from  an  unclean  spirit 
of  rebellion  and  night.  "  He  shall  quicken  your  ^ 
rnortal  bodies  by  His  spirit  that  dwelleth  in  you."  ' 
I  am  not  prepared  to  relegate  the  fulfilment  of 
this  promise  to  an  altogether  remote  futurity.  It 
may  be  consummated  only  upon  the  day  of  the 
great  unveiling,  but  I  cannot  think  that  its  opera- 
tions are  still  and  inoperative  even  to-day. 
"  Everything  shall  live  whither  the  river  cometh  "  ;  i 
and  in  that  "  everything  "  I  am  incHned  to  include 
the  quickening  even  of  the  physical  capacities  of 
the  life. 

(2)  May  we  assume  a  mental  quickening .?  If 
the  energy  of  the  Vine  flows  into  the  branch,  will 
man  realise  himself  more  perfectly  in  the  realm  of 

43 


Brooks    by  the   Traveller's  Way. 

the  mind  ?  That  is  the  promise  of  the  book.  The 
Word  of  God  has  a  great  deal  to  say  about  "  dis- 
cernment."    Again   and   again    it   is   implied   that 

(  the  mental  powers  are  sharpened,  that  the  judg- 
ment is  quickened  when  life  is  pervaded  by  the 
fine  presence  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  The  damp 
atmosphere  will  blunt  the  edge  of  the  finest  razor, 
and  an  unclean  spirit  can  impair  the  acuteness  of 
the  rarest  mental  power.  The  wholeness  of  the 
mental  capacity  is  affected  by  the  general  atmos- 
phere of  the  life.  In  a  remarkable  article  written 
by  the  late  Mr.  Hutton,  at  the  time  of  Sir  Isaac 
Holden's    death,    the    great   essayist   declared    his 

-  conviction  that  the  extraordinary  fertility  and 
inventiveness  of  Sir  Isaac's  mind  had  been  fed 
and  nourished  by  the  deep  underlying  spirituality 
and  nobility  of  his  life.  When  a  man  worships  the 
Lord  with  "  all  his  soul,"  he  attains  the  possibility 
of  serving  Him  "  with  all  his  mind." 

(3)  May  we  assume  a  moral  quickening  ?  If  the 
sap  of  the  Vine  flows  into  the  branch,  man  will 
realise  himself  in  a  rarer  moral  fruitage.  Con- 
science will  flower  in  more  exquisite  discernments. 
Will  will  sweeten  into  a  rarer  willingness. 
Obedience  will  become  more  and  more  choice. 
Affection  will  grow  richer  in  benevolence  and  dis- 
cernment. "  The  fruit  of  the  Spirit  is  in  a// 
goodness."     When  the  divine  sap  flows  into  human 

44 


My   Need  of   Christ. 

life,  the  branch  bears  all  manner  of  fruit.  Life  is 
not  morally  lopsided.  It  is  full  and  fine  propor- 
tioned, abounding  in  an  all-round  moral  excellence. 
(4)  May  we  assume  a  spiritual  quickening? 
When  the  branch  becomes  allied  with  the  Vine 
man  realises  himself  in  undreamed-of  powers  for 
the  apprehension  and  appreciation  of  the  things  of 
God.  He  is  enabled  to  enter  with  awed  and 
reverent  discernment  into  the  mysteries  of  grace. 
He  finds  himself  capable  of  appropriating  the 
riches  of  redemption.  He  experiences  the  peace  f 
of  forgiveness,  i  He  knows  "  the  power  of  the 
resurrection."  He  "  grows  in  grace  and  in  know- 
ledge," and  feels  the  glory  of  the  immortal  hope. 
When  life  is  energised  by  the  divine  sap,  life 
acquires  rare  appreciations,  and  holds  intimate 
fellowship  with  God.  In  all  these  ways  man  must 
realise  himself  in  union  with  the  Christ.  We  come 
to  ourselves  in  Him.  In  Him  our  best  is  hidden ;  * 
He  has  our  crown.  "  Our  sufficiency  is  in  Him." 
"  We  are  complete  in  Him." 

IL    **  I  am  the  Vine ;     Ye  are  the  Branches/* 

Then  Christ  can  only  ex -press  Hiynself  through 
union  with  man. 

We  have  been  considering  the  impotence  of  the 
branch  apart  from  the  Vine ;    but  what  can  the 

45 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's  Way. 

Vine  do  without  the  branch  ?  The  Vine  has  need 
of  the  branch  in  order  to  express  itself  in  flower 
and  fruit.  We  frustrate  the  Vine  if  we  deprive  it 
of  the  branch.  We  have  only  to  conceive  of  a 
branchless  vine  to  realise  its  impotence.  It  has 
pleased  the  Lord  to  express  Himself  through  His 
own.  He  still  incarnates  Himself  in  His  children. 
He  communicates  Himself  to  the  world  through 
man.  If  we  revolt  we  deprive  the  Lord  of  the 
means  of  expression. 

He  declai-es  His  Gospel  through  witnesses ; 
therefore  He  has  need  of  the  branches.  He 
proclaims  His  power  through  the  healed  man ;  He 
has  therefore  a  need  of  the  branches.  He  warns 
and  counsels  the  people  through  prophets ;  He 
has  therefore  need  of  the  branches.  In  an  equally 
intimate  figure,  He  declares  that  we  are  His  "body." 
The  unseen  life  of  the  Spirit  embodies  itself 
through  us ;  we  are  its  eyes,  ears,  hands,  and  feet. 
If  we  refuse  the  service,  we  silence  the  King. 

He  is  yearning  to  express  Himself  in  your  own 
home,  but  He  has  no  branch !  He  wants  to  reveal 
to  your  family  what  gracious  fruit  is  matured  in 
the  life  that  abides  in  Him.  He  wants  to  show 
how  barrenness  changes  to  beauty  under  the 
influence  of  His  sap,  and  how  unfulfilled  promise 
grows  into  ripe  and  beautiful  attainment.  But 
He  has  no  branch!     He  longs  to  express  Himself 

46 


My   Need  of   Christ. 

in  the  civic  life.  He  wants  branches  in  the  Town 
Councils,  on  our  School  Boards,  in  all  the  different 
spheres  of  civic  g-overnment  and  life.  He  wants 
to  display  the  fruits  of  consecrated  poHtics,  the 
clear  and  mature  rectitude  of  the  Christian  saint. 
But  does  He  always  find  the  branch  ?  This  is  an 
aspect  of  the  matter  which  we  are  commonly  in- 
clined to  forget.  The  severance  of  the  Vine  and 
the  branch  is  contemplated  as  meaning  the  paralysis 
and  death  of  the  branch.  We  do  not  very  fre- 
quently regard  it  as  meaning  a  maimed  and 
impoverished  Vine.  When  we  offer  ourselves  to 
Christ,  the  branch  not  only  attains  the  power  of 
self-realisation,  but  the  Vine  acquires  the  vehicle 
for  its  own  gracious  and  benevolent  expression. 
The  Apostle  Paul  offered  himself  as  a  branch  to 
the  Vine,  and  so  intimate  was  the  alliance  that 
he  was  able  to  say,  "  I  live,  yet  not  I,  Christ  liveth 
in  me."  "  For  to  me  to  live  is  Christ."  The  Lord 
consummated  the  personality  of  the  Apostle,  and 
through  him  expressed  His  mind  and  purpose  to 
a  world.     "  I  am  the  Vine ;   ye  are  the  branches." 

I  "Take  my  life  and  let  it  be 
5    Consecrated,  Lord,  to  Thee." 


47 


VII. 

The  Shepherd  and  the  Sheep* 

"  My  sheep  hear  My  voice,  and  I  know  them,  and  they 
follow  Me  ;  and  I  give  unto  them  eternal  life,  and  they  shall 
never  perish,  neither  shall  any  man  pluck  them  out  of  My 
ha.nd."— John  x.  27,  28. 

In  these  words  there  are  disclosed  to  us  some  of 
the  gracious  attributes  of  the  Heavenly  Shepherd, 
and  some  of  the  prominent  characteristics  of  His 
sheep.  Let  our  meditation  seek  to  gather  fruit 
from  the  contemplation  of  both. 

"My  sheep  hear  My  voice:'  They  have  the  gift 
of  spiritual  discernment.  All  voices  do  not  sound 
alike  to  them.  They  can  distinguish  the  still  small 
voice,  even  amid  the  Babel  and  clamour  of  the 
world.  They  can  catch  the  tones  of  their  own 
Shepherd  amid  the  loud  shoutings  of  many  aliens. 
They  have  the  gracious  faculty  of  being  able  to 
sort  the  messages  which  assail  their  ears.     In  what- 

48 


The   Shepherd   and   the   Sheep. 

ever  direction  they  turn,  they  can  hear  the  call  of 
the  Shepherd. 

(i)  The  voice  of  yesterday.  "My  sheep  hear 
My  voice."  The  disciples  of  the  Master  can  inter- 
pret the  voice  that  calls  to  them  from  the  days 
of  the  past.  "  I  heard  behind  me  a  great  voice." 
They  gather  instruction  from  the  voice  that  speaks 
in  this  commanding  tone.  History  is  full  of  ex- 
pression ;  it  abounds  in  teaching.  In  song  and 
wail ;  in  psalm  and  warning,  the  disciples  can  hear 
the  voice  of  the  Lord. 

The  "  days  that  have  been  "  yield  their  instruc- 
tion to  the  days  that  are,  and  the  instinct  of  to-day 
is  refined  and  chastened  by  the  fight  and  failures 
and  victories  of  yesterday.  The  present  gains  in 
riches  by  the  witness  of  the  past 

(2)  The  voice  of  to-day.  "  To-day  if  ye  will 
hear  His  voice."  The  Lord's  own  people  catch 
the  sound  of  their  Master's  voice  in  the  seemingly 
silent  circumstances  of  to-day.  They  discern  His 
voice  in  what  other  men  regard  only  as  a  dumb 
drift.  They  hear  the  new  message  in  the  new 
conditions.  "  New  occasions  teach  new  duties." 
The  disciple  discerns  the  duty,  and  in  it  he  hears 
the  still  small  voice  of  his  God. 

(3)  The  voice  of  to-morrow.  "  My  sheep  hear 
My  voice."  "  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven  say, 
blessed    are    the    dead    who    die    in    the    Lord." 

49  D 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

The  disciple  hears  that  alluring  and  inspiring  call, 
When  he  applies  an  eager  ear  at  the  door  of  a 
stern  futurity,  he  hears  the  soothing  and  calming 
word,  "  Blessed."  The  voice  that  peals  to  him 
from  the  unknown  drives  away  all  his  fears. 

**  Far,  far  away  like  bells  at  evening^  pealing, 
The  voice  of  Jesus  sounds  o'er  land  and  sea, 
And  laden  souls,  by  thousands  meekly  stealing, 
Kind  Shepherd,  turn  their  weary  steps  to  Thee." 

''And  they  follow  Me"  The  sheep  not  only 
discern  the  voice  of  the  Shepherd  they  respond  to 
His  call,  and  follow  in  glad  obedience.  What 
at  first  may  be  a  choice,  becomes  at  last  an  instinct. 
The  sound  of  the  voice  prompts  the  heart  to 
obedience.  The  soul  leaps  to  the  call.  There  is 
a  beautiful  passage  in  the  Book  of  Revelation 
which  may  be  appropriately  quoted  here.  "  I 
heard  a  voice  from  heaven,  as  a  voice  of  many 
waters,  and  as  the  voice  of  a  great  thunder,  and  I 
heard  the  voice  of  harpers  harping  with  their 
harps."  Who  are  these  triumphant  ones  in  the 
heavenly  place  ?  "  These  are  they  which  follow 
the_  Lamb  whithersoever  He  goeth."  Then  they 
are  "  following "  still !  They  began  their  com- 
panionship where  we  have  still  ours.  They  accom- 
panied Him  "  through  the  green  pastures,"  and  "  by 
the  still  waters,"   and  through  the  perilous  ways 

50 


The   Shepherd   and    the   Sheep. 

of  the  weird  and  darksome  vale.  They  took  up 
their  cross  daily,  and  now  they  follow  Him  still 
where  the  hard  road  and  the  threatening  gorge 
are  quite  unknown.  They  are  perfecting  in  larger 
spaces  the  character  which  began  to  be  formed  in 
the  narrower  ways  of  time.  The  gift  of  discern- 
ment and  the  spirit  of  obedience  are  two  of  the 
primary  characteristics  of  the   disciples  of  Christ. 

"/  know  them!'  Here  is  the  reciprocal  discern- 
ment. The  Master  recognises  His  own.  He 
never  mistakes  one  for  another.  He  knows  our 
idiosyncrasies.  He  knows  my  "  make-up,"  my 
peculiar  individuality,  my  special  conditions.  He 
does  not  deal  with  us  as  though  we  were  all  alike. 
"  He  calleth  His  own  sheep  by  name."  He  watches 
each  life  as  though  it  presented  a  unique  and 
separate  problem.  His  recognition  means  more 
than  perception.  It  implies  sympathy.  He  not 
only  knows;  He  feels.  He  responds  to  the  need 
which  He  discerns.  He  can  be  "  touched  with  the 
feeling  of  our  infirmities." 

"/  give  unto  them  eternal  life!'  How  this  Gospel 
abounds  in  messages  concerning  life,  and  in 
declarations  which  proclaim  the  Master  as  the 
Fountain  of  Life!  "In  Him  was  life."  "The 
Son  hath  life  in  Himself."  "I  am  the  Bread 
of  Life."  "  I  am  the  Life."  And  what  His  lips 
proclaimed,    His    life    confirmed.     Everything    He 

51 


Brooks   by   the    Traveller's   Way. 

did  was  characterised  by  an  abounding  life.  What 
an  expression  of  intense  and  abounding  Ufe  is  to 
be  found  in  phrases  Hke  these :  "  Get  thee 
behind  Me,  Satan  "  ;  "  He  steadfastly  set  His  face 
to  go  to  Jerusalem."  What  an  inexhaustible  wealth 
of  affection  is  to  be  found  in  an  expression  as  this : 
"  Having  loved  His  own  which  were  in  the  world, 
He  loved  them  unto  the  end."  And  now  there 
comes  an  inspiring  promise  that  this  Fountain  of 
Life  is  willing  and  waiting  to  impart  it  into  the 
wills  and  minds  and  hearts  of  His  children.  He 
will  give  unto  us  "  eternal  life " — life  which  is 
characterised  not  so  much  by  quantity  as  to  dura- 
tion, but  by  quality,  rendering  us  partakers  of  His 
own  divine  nature. 

''They  shall  never  perish:'  They  shall  be  made 
indestructible.  The  far  country  shall  never  get 
hold  of  them  again  to  waste  their  treasure.  Their 
power  shall  never  be  impaired.  They  shall  be 
kept  in  health.  They  shall  never  be  "lost." 
They  shall  become  ever  more  and  more  alive. 
Everything  that  is  worthy  shall  be  increasingly 
quickened   and    enriched. 

''No  one  shall  pluck  them  out  of  My  hand!' 
They  shall  not  be  snatched  into  destruction.  They 
shall  not  be  victims  of  any  sudden  emergency. 
They  shall  never  be  taken  "  off  their  guard."  What 
a  wonderful  promise,  and  yet  a  promise  of  which 

52 


The   Shepherd   and  the    Sheep. 

we  may  all  reap  the  gracious  fulfilment.  We  often 
excuse  our  moral  lapses  by  declaring  that  we  were 
taken  unawares.  "  The  wolf  caicheth  them."  It 
need  not  be.  We  may  be  always  secure  if  we  are 
willing  to  be  kept.  Resting  in  our  Saviour's  hands 
we  may  be  quite  inviolable.  If  we  have  to  cling  to 
Him  with  our  frail  and  fragile  fingers,  we  shall 
drop  away  from  sheer  exhaustion  in  the  cold  and 
stormy  day.  But  if  we  are  resting  in  the  hollow 
of  His  hands,  with  His  fingers  closed  over  us,  what 
shall  make  us  afraid } 

And  what  is  the  foundation  of  all  these  gracious 
experiences  ?     The  answer  is  to  be  found  in  the 
very  first  word  of  our  text.     "  My  sheep."     Can  : 
that  word  be  used  of  me  ?     Am  I  willing  to  be  , 
His  1     Have  I  yielded  myself  to  be  His  property }  \ 
Can  I  say,  "  I  am  not  my  own  V     Do  I  admit  the 
Master's  claim  ?       If  the  claim  be  admitted,  then 
edl  the  gracious  issues,  which  we  have  been  con- 
templating, will  become  assuredly  ours. 

*'  To  Thee,  Thou  bleeding  Lamb, 
I  all  thing^s  owe  ; 
All  that  I  have  and  am, 
And  all  I  know. 
All  that  I  have  is  now  no  longer  mine, 
And  I  am  not  mine  own-;  Lord,  I  am  thine." 


53 


p  p  p 

WliU 

Lightening   the   Burden. 

•'Cast  thy  burden  upon  the  Lord,  and  He  shall  sustain 
thee.  He  shall  never  suffer  the  righteous  to  be  moved." — 
Psalm  Iv.  23. 

To  whom  is  this  gracious  promise  of  sustenance 
made  ?  Some  people's  burdens  are  intended  to  be 
burdensome  ;  the  very  heaviness  of  their  load  is 
purposed  to  discharge  a  gracious  ministry.  The 
yoke  of  the  unrighteous  is  purposed  to  be  galling. 
It  would  be  calamitous  to  ease  their  pain  even  by 
shifting  the  position  of  the  burden.  The  load  that 
presses  upon  their  souls  may  bring  them  to  their 
knees,  and  the  endurance  of  pain  may  issue  in  the 
fellowship  of  prayer.  The  gracious  promise  of 
our  text  is  spoken  to  the  surrendered  life. 
Immovableness  shall  be  the  characteristic  of  the 
righteous.  It  is  the  righteous  v.'ho  remains 
uncrushed  beneath  the  heaviest  load,^  and  who, 
'  54 


Lightening    the    Burden. 

under  the  burden,  is  sustained  by  the  strength- 
ening influences  of  grace. 

L    The  Burden  Bearer :  **  the  Righteous/* 

But  who  is  the  righteous  ?  We  can  infer  the 
nature  of  sources  by  the  character  of  issues.  We 
can  discern  the  nature  of  the  will  from  the  ten- 
dency of  the  life.  If  we  know  the  effects  of  living, 
we  can  infer  its  secret  springs.  Now  the  Word 
of  God  records  many  significant  symptoms  and 
effects  and  tendencies  of  the  righteous  life,  and 
from  the  observation  of  these  we  may  possibly 
interpret  its  primary  character  and  source.  Let  us 
glance  at  two  or  three  of  these  descriptive  words. 
I  (i)  ''The  mouth  of  the  righteous  is  a  fountain 
of  lifer   ' 

Here  is  a  symptom  of  the  righteous  life.  Its 
conversation  is  vitalising ;  the  purport  of  its 
speech  is  constructive.  The  Scriptures  dwell  on 
this  characteristic  with  very  varied  emphasis. 
"  Let  nothing  proceed  out  of  your  mouth  but  what  1 
is  edifying."  Our  speech  is  to  aid  in  the  rearing 
of  a  stately  and  exquisitely  finished  life.  "  The 
lips  of  the  righteous  feed. many."  Their  speech  is 
food.  Their  conversation  nourishes  the  minds  of 
those  with  whom  they  hold  intercourse.  Their 
words  revive  the  better  selves  of  their  companions. 

55 


) 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's   Way. 

"  The  tongue  of  the  righteous  is  as  choice  silver." 
Nothing  common  or  vulgar  is  permitted.  Their 
speech  is  carefully  selected.  It  is  sincere  and 
refined,  and  therefore  refining.  The  whole  round 
of  their  conversation  is  a  gracious  "  fountain  of 
life." 

(2)  "TAe  labour  of  the  righteous  tendeth  to 
lifer 

Then  not  only  their  speech  but  their  labour  is  a 
minister  to  more  abundant  life.  The  manner  of 
the  man's  labour,  the  way  in  which  he  earns  his 
bread,  quickens  the  common  life.  There  is  nothing 
poisonous  about  his  business  ways ;  nothing 
perverting  or  destructive.  They  are  not  murderous 
but  vitalising,  and  tend  to  quicken  and  enrich  the 
corporate  life. 

(3)  ''The  fruit  of  the  righteous  is  a  tree  of 
lifer 

All  the  varied  issues  of  his  life,  all  his  accom- 
plishments, the  plentiful  products  of  character  and 
conduct,  everything  that  emerges  from  his  person- 
ality, minister  to  a  more  abundant  life.  All  the 
fruit  on  his  branches  tend  to  sweeten  and  purify 
the  common  life. 

Such  are  a  few  of  the  effects  and  symptoms  of 
the  righteous  life.  From  such  streams  we  can 
infer  the  spring.  "  With  Thee  is  the  fountain  of 
life."     The    righteous    is    in    profound    fellowship 

56 


Lightening  the   Burden* 

with  the  Eternal.  His  will  is  united  by  steady,  | 
momentary  surrender  to  the  will  of  God.  He 
lives  and  moves  and  has  his  being  in  the  august 
contemplation  of  the  Eternal.  "  The  fear  of  the 
Lord  is  the  fountain  of  life."  The  righteous  is 
one  who,  by  reverent  fear  and  obedience,  is  in 
communion  with  the  fountain,  and  the  issues  of 
his  conduct  and  character  minister  to  the  vital 
enrichment  and  purification  of  the  race. 

II.     The   Burden:    **Thy    Burden/* 

What  is  the  burden  which  is  weighing  with  pain- 
ful intensity  upon  the  heart  of  this  troubled 
Psalmist  ?  Let  us  look  abroad  over  the  disturbed 
surface  of  the  psalm.  What  does  he  bemoan  as 
the  burden  of  his  soul  ? 

(i)  He  bemoans  the  loud  unblushing  aggres-  i 
siveness  of  evil.  He  goes  about  the  city,  and  the 
ostentation  of  evil  fills  his  eyes  and  ears — "  The 
voice  of  the  enemy " ;  "  The  oppression  of  the 
wicked " ;  "  They  cast  iniquity  upon  me " ; 
"  Violence  and  strife  in  the  city  "  ;  "  Iniquity  and 
mischief  also " ;  "  Oppression  and  guile  depart 
not  from  her  streets."  It  is  the  burden  of  social 
evils  which  weighs  upon  the  man's  soul,  as  an 
intolerable  and  suffocating  load.  It  weighs  him 
down.  "  My  heart  is  sore  pained  within  me." 
"  Horror  hath  overwhelmed  me." 

57 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

(2)  He  bemoans  the  unfaithfulness  of  the  pro- 
fessor. The  leaven  of  professed  goodness  is  reveal- 
ing itself  to  be  bad.  The  salt  is  going  wrong. 
"  It  was  thou  .  .  .  my  companion,  my  familiar 
friend  ...  we  walked  in  the  House  of  the 
God  with  the  throng."  He  is  burdened  by  the 
presence  of  the  unfaithful  professor,  who  hath  pro- 
faned his  covenant  Such  is  the  two-fold  perversity 
which  is  crushing  the  Psalmist's  soul ;  the  burden 
t  of  proud  evil  and  the  burden  of  false  virtue.  In 
the  face  of  these  he  is  almost  seduced  into  flight. 
"  Oh  that  I  had  wings  like  a  dove,  then  would  I 
fly  away  and  be  at  rest" 

IIL     The    Divine    Injunction :     **  Cast    Thy 
Burden   on   the  Lord/* 

The  remedy  for  thy  depression  is  not  to  be 
found  in  flight,  but  in  continued  fight  Rest  will 
not  be  discovered  in  the  solitude  of  the  wilderness, 
but  in  an  alliance  with  thy  God.  Thou  art 
assuming  to  carry  the  burden  in  thine  own  weak- 
ness, and  the  load  is  too  much  for  thee.  Thou 
hast  a  Partner.  This  kind  of  burden-bearing  is 
the  labour  of  a  "  company."  The  yoke  is  proposed 
to  be  borne  by  thee  and  thy  God.  Bring  together 
all  the  words  of  the  Scriptures  which  suggest  the 
gracious  truth.     The  Bible  is  great  in  that  class 

58 


Lightening    the    Burden. 

of  words  which  begin  with  the  syllable  "  com "  : 
communion,  companionship,  comfort,  commit,  com- 
municate. And  all  these  words  with  the  suggestive 
preface  declare  that  life  is  purposed  to  be  an  in- 
timate partnership  between  ourselves  and  God, 
and  that,  if  man  ignores  his  great  Divine  partner, 
life's  burden  will  break  his  heart.  "  Cast  thy 
burden  on  the  Lord."  Hie  thee  away  to  God,  go 
into  thy  closet  shut  the  door,  have  a  little  time 
with  thy  Partner ;  tell  Him  of  the  evil  of  thine  own 
heart ;  tell  Him  of  the  evils  that  invest  the  city ; 
tell  Him  that  the  word  "  flight "  has  been  whis- 
pered in  thine  ears,  but  that  thou  art  more  inclined 
to  stand.  "  Cast  thy  burden  on  the  Lord,"  and 
when  thy  Partner  lays  hold  of  the  load,  thy  burden 
shall  become  hght. 

IV.    The   Divine   Promise:      **  He   Shall 
Sustain   Thee/* 

That  is  the  common  way  by  which  the  Lord 
lightens  the  burden  of  life.  It  is  not  lifted  away 
from  us ;  our  strength  is  increa^^d^and  the  burden 
becomes  light.  He  gives  us  sustenance,  and, 
being  stronger  men,  we  are  able  to  carry  the  old 
load  with  a  lighter  and  more  confident  heart.  Is 
not  this  what  happened  under  the  appalling 
sufferings    of    Gethsemane  ?      The    burden    was 

59 


44 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's  Way. 

unspeakably  heavy.  "  Father,  if  Thou  be  willing, 
remove  this  cup  from  Me  ;  nevertheless  not  My 
will  but  Thine  be  done."  And  what  was  the 
answer  to  this  poignant  prayer  ?  The  burden  was 
not  removed,  but  the  Master  Himself  was  sustained. 
"  There  appeared  unto  Him  an  angel  from  heaven 
strengthening  Him."  That  angel  is  still  minister- 
ing among  the  children  of  men.  He  is  still  impart- 
ing sustaining  strength  to  those  who  are  bowing 
beneath  life's  load.  He  appears  to  us  in  unexpected 
guise.  Sometimes  the  strengthening  food  is 
brought  to  us  in  most  unfamiliar  ways.  "  I  have 
commanded  the  ravens  to  feed  thee."  "  I  have 
commanded  a  widow  to  sustain  thee."  We  never 
know  just  how  the  sustenance  may  come.  It  may 
come  to  us  through  the  speech  of  our  friend, 
through  a  chance  incident  related  in  a  book, 
through  a  suggestion  from  a  work  of  art.  We 
cannot  tell  how  the  angel  who  brings  the  bread 
may  be  robed,  but  the  bread  is  sure.  "  He  never 
will  suffer  the  righteous  to  be  moved."  Thou  shalt 
not  slip  or  slide,  thou  shalt  rem.ain  firm  as  upon  a 
rock.  He  will  preserve  thee  from  the  timidity 
which  is  fraught  with  moral  peril.  He  will 
strengthen  thee  so  as  to  encounter  thine  own 
temptations  and  the  evils  of  thy  city  with  a  brave 
and  exultant  heart. 


60 


ix. 


''How  Much   More!'' 

"  How  much  more."  These  words  express  a 
mode  of  reasoning  enjoined  and  commended  in  the 
Christian  Scriptures.  We  are  permitted  to  begin  > 
on  the  plane  of  the  human,  and  reason  upward  to 
the'  Divine ;  on  the  plane  of  the  material,  and 
reason  to  the  spiritual ;  on  the  plane  of  the 
temporary,  and  reason  to  the  Eternal.  We  are  to 
exercise  the  powers  of  observation  in  the  common 
ways  of  life.  We  are  to  interrogate  the  common 
heart,  and  find  there  the  elements  of  our  thinking, 
and  with  these  elements  we  may  then  begin  to 
shape  our  conception  of  the  Divine.  "  If  ye  then  I 
.  .  .  how  much  more  your  Father."  We  are 
to  search  among  ourselves  for  alphabetic  hints  and 
suggestions,  and  with  these  we  may  partially 
determine  the  ways  and  the  thoughts  of  the 
Eternal  mind.     We  are  permitted  to  move  about 

6i 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

in  our  homes,  and  through  the  many  rooms  of  our 
large  earthly  house,  gathering  rudimentary  hints 
from  which  we  may  form  our  conceptions  of  the 
gracious  and  glorious  personality  of  God.  "  Look 
about  you,"  the  word  seems  to  say,  "  and  you  will 
find  in  the  familiarities  of  your  home  life,  and 
the  commonplaces  in  the  world  about  you,  the 
elements  of  right  thinking  concerning  the 
Divine."  "  If  ye  then  .  .  .  how  much  more 
your  Father." 

I.  "//  ye  then,  being  evil,  know  how  to  give 
good  gifts,  how  much  more  shall  your  Father T 

I  am  counselled  to  go  into  the  family  circle  with 
the  purpose  of  discovering  some  hints  about  God. 
I  am  told  that  in  the  arrangements  and  govern- 
ment of  a  typical  home,  I  shall  obtain  glimpses 
of  the  divine  fatherhood.  Let  me  exercise  this 
privilege.  I  will  go  into  a  home  and  exercise  my 
powers  of  observation.  What  do  1  observe }  I 
notice  the  presence  of  a  pervading  affection,  but 
I  am  impressed  by  the  mysteriousness  of  its  work- 
ing. I  notice  that  affection  has  an  extensive  ward- 
robe. It  does  not  always  appear  in  the  same  dress. 
It  enshrines  itself  in  very  varied  guises,  sometimes 
attractive,  sometimes  apparently  forbidding,  but 
through  all  the  different  vestures  the  one  affection 
persists.  There  is  one  breath  in  the  oigan,  but 
there  are  many  notes.     One   breath   can   express 

62 


"  How  'Much    More  1 " 

itself  in  bewildering  plenitude  of  sounds.  I 
wonder  to  be  told  that  behind  the  variety  a  per- 
vading unity  is  sustained.  The  breath  now  issues 
in  tones  of  thunder ;  now  it  warbles  in  bird  song ; 
now  it  expresses  itself  in  clarion-call,  like  a  bugle 
peal,  summoning  troops  to  muster ;  and  again  in 
a  sweet  persuasiveness,  like  the  soft  wooing  of  a 
lover.  "  But  all  these  worketh  that  one  and  self- 
same breath."  So  is  it  with  affection  in  the  home. 
It  expresses  itself  in  many  guises  and  tones,  now 
severely,  now  gently,  now  in  tones  of  persuasion, 
and  again  with  the  imperative  of  a  commander. 
If  I  remain  in  the  home  for  any  lengthy  period, 
I  can  observe  the  affection  assuming  almost  the 
variety  of  the  seasons.  Now  it  is  sharp  and  severe 
like  the  winter.  Now  it  is  soft  and  gentle  like 
the  spring.  Now  it  is  ardent,  and  overflowing 
with  sunny  cheer  hke  the  summer.  And  now  it  is 
mellow,  full,  and  yet  restrained  like  the  autumn. 
This  is  one  of  the  primary  characteristics  which  I 
observe  in  the  home  life,  that  affection  reveals 
itself  through  many  different  conditions,  but 
behind  the  varied  conditions  it  remains  invariable 
and  constant. 

I  notice,  further,  in  the  home  life  that  the  wishes 
of  the  children  do  not  always  determine  the  gifts 
of  the  parents.  I  observe  that  affection  frequently 
expresses  itself  in  apparent  antagonism  to  the  one 

63 


1 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

beloved.  The  wish  of  the  child  is  not  the  law  of 
the  home.  The  law  of  the  home  is  determined  by 
the  judgment  of  the  parents.  Your  sick  child 
asked  for  a  cake,  you  gave  her  medicine.  Is  this 
affection  ?  The  child  asked  for  a  fish,  and  you 
gave  her  a  scorpion ;  but  only  to  the  child  does 
it  appear  a  scorpion ;  in  reality  you  have  given 
the  child  the  only  possible  food.  The  child  had 
unwittingly  asked  for  a  scorpion,  and  affection 
revealed  itself  in  apparent  antagonism  to  the 
child's  desire. 

Now  take  the  step  in  reasoning  commended  by 
the  Scriptures.  *'  If  ye  then,  being  evil,  know  how 
to  give  good  gifts,  how  much  more  shall  your 
Father,  which  is  in  heaven."  If  these  things 
pervade  the  common  home  life,  if  affection  some- 
times denies,  and  sometimes  restrains,  and  some- 
times expresses  itself  in  severity,  "  how  much  more  " 
will  the  all-wise  affection  be  constrained  to  act  in 
apparent  antagonism  to  our  own  blind  and  petty 
desires.  Our  Father  will  give  "  good  things." 
I  may  ask  for  freedom ;  He  may  increase  the 
restraints.  I  may  ask  for  the  sweet,  and  the 
response  may  be  found  in  intensified  bitterness. 
'■  I  may  ask  for  fish,  and  there  may  come  an  apparent 
scorpion.  But  the  antagonism  is  apparent.  The 
thing  that  comes  is  "  good."  "  Thou  art  good,  and 
doeth  good!'     "  It  is  good  for  me  that  I  have  been 

64 


it 


How    Much    More  !  " 


afflicted."       "  He  satisfieth   our  mouth  with  good      fi 
things!^ 

2.  "  //  God  so  clothed  the  grass  of  the  -field, 
which  to-day  is,  and  to-morrow  is  cast  into  the 
oven,  how  much  7nore  shall  He  clothe  you,  0  ye 
of  little  faith." 

I  am  to  take  a  blade  of  grass,  and  contemplate    i 
it,    and    from    the    suggestions   it    conveys  to    me 
reason  upward  to  a  larger  and  truer  conception  of 
God.     Have  you  ever  gazed  at  a  blade  of  grass  ? 
I  don't  mean  have  you  merely  glanced  at  it ;  but 
have  you  taken  it  up  and  feasted  your  eyes  upon 
it  until  its  exquisite  beauty  is  for  ever  imprinted 
upon  your  soul  ?     "  Think  of  it  well,"   says  John 
Ruskin,  "  and  judge  whether  of  all  the  gorgeous 
flowers  that  beam  in  summer  air,  and  of  all  strong 
and  goodly  trees,  pleasant  to  the  eyes,  or  good  for 
food — stately  palm  and  pine,  strong  ash  and  oak, 
scented   citron,  burdened  vine, — there   be  any  by 
man  so  deeply  loved,  by  God  so  highly  graced,  as 
that  narrow  point  of  feeble  green."     Contemplate, 
therefore,  a  blade  of  grass.     Examine  the  exquisite 
robes  of  a  Hly.     Take  one  of  the  commonplaces 
of  the  ordinary  field.       Look  long  at   the   daisy, 
or  the  buttercup,  or  a  sprig  of  moorland  heather. 
And  when  your  vision  is  possessed  by  the  ineffable 
loveliness,  call   to   mind   the  Scriptural   reasoning, 
"  If  God  so  clothe  the  grass  of  the  field,  how  much   ; 

65  E 


r^ 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's   Way. 

more  shall  He  clothe  you."  Give  to  the  reasoning 
its  largest  reaches.  Don't  confine  the  suggestions 
to  merely  temporal  vestures.  Lift  it  up  to  include 
the  robing  of  the  Spirit.  When  I  turn  to  the  Word 
of  God,  I  find  descriptions  of  most  wonderful 
clothing.  "  Robes  of  righteousness."  "  Garments 
of  Salvation."  "  Who  are  these  in  white  robes .''" 
"  Garments  of  praise."  These  phrases  describe  the 
lovely  clothing  of  a  hallowed  and  perfected  life. 
May  I  have  my  spiritual  nakedness  covered  by 
their  surpassing  beauty  ^  I  obtain  the  inspiring 
answer  from  the  common  field.  If  God  takes  so 
much  pains  with  a  blade  of  grass,  how  much  more 
will  He  take  with  one  of  His  own  children.  The 
exquisiteness  of  a  flower  of  the  field  gives  me  hope 
that,  through  the  grace  of  God,  I  may  one  day  be 
a  flower  in  His  kingdom.  The  beauty  of  nature 
shall  make  me  confident  of  obtaining  the  beauty  of 
holiness. 

3.  "//  l/ie  blood  of  goats  and  bulls,  and  the 
ashes  of  the  heifer ,  sprinkling  them  that  have  been 
de-filed,  sanctify  unto  the  cleanness  of  the  flesh, 
how  much  more  shall  the  blood  of  Christ!' 

The  argument  is  just  this.  If  certain  things 
happened  in  the  Old  Testament,  how  much  more 
will  they  happen  in  the  New.  If  certain  things 
happened  in  the  uncertain  twilight,  how  much 
more  will  they  occur  in  the  splendour  of  the  noon- 

66 


4( 


How  Much  More!'' 


tide  ?  If  these  gracious  experiences  took  place  at 
the  turn  of  the  winter,  how  much  more  will  they 
abound  amid  the  dazzhng  plenitudes  of  the 
summer  glory.  If  this  man  in  Old  Testament 
times,  who  had  never  seen  Christ,  attained  to  this 
height,  "  how  much  more  "  may  I,  who  have  gazed 
upon  the  Master's  face?  If  Moses  obtained  the 
spirit  of  endurance,  "  as  seeing  Him  who  is  in- 
visible," "  how  much  more  "  may  we  endure,  upon 
whose  eyes  has  dawned  all  the  glory  of  the  incar- 
nate God  ?  If  Job  attained  unto  patience,  upon 
whom  the  beauty  of  the  Lord  had  not  yet  arisen, 
"  how  much  more  "  shall  we,  who  have  seen  the 
transactions  of  Bethlehem,  Gethsemane,  Calvary 
and  Olivet?  And  so  I  go  through  the  Old 
Testament,  noting  a  saint  here,  and  another  there, 
and  witnessing  their  triumphs,  and  I  come  away 
from  the  spectacle  with  this  word  upon  my  lips, 
"  If  these  things  can  be  achieved  before  the 
unveiling  of  the  King,  how  much  more  may  tAey 
now  be  accomphshed  when  the  light  has  come, 
and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  has  arisen  upon  us?" 
If  these  things  occurred  in  the  day  of  types  and 
shadows,  what  may  be  their  power  and  plenitude 
in  the  day  of  splendid  reality,  when  the  Lord  has 
come?  If  our  brethren  in  the  twilight  felt  the 
cleansing  power  of  sacrifice  and  knew  their  sin  to 
be  forgiven,  how  much  more  shall  be  the  wealth 

67 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way, 

of  our  consciousness  who  have  gazed  upon  the 
"  Lamb  of  God,"  and  have  heard  the  apostohc 
word  that  "  God  for  Christ's  sake  has  forgiven 
you  "  ? 


68 


X. 


No  Failing!     No  Forsaking! 

"  For  He  Himself  hath  said  He  will  in  no  wise  fail  thee, 
nor  will  I  in  any  wise  forsake  thee,  so  that  with  g^ood  courage 
we  say  the  Lord  is  my  Helper,  I  will  not  fear  ;  what  shall 
man  do  unto  me  ?  " — Heh.  xiii,  5,  6. 


"  He  hath  said  I  will  in  no  wise  fail  thee,"  "  so 
that  with  good  courage  we  say,  I  will  not  fear." 
What  a  beautiful  antiphony!  The  evangel  of  the 
Father  awakens  the  song  of  the  children.  Life 
moves  to  gladsome  music  when  we  appreciate  the 
content  of  the  eternal  promise.  We  walk  like 
kings  and  queens  when  we  recognise  the  dignity 
of  our  companionship.  When  the  terror  goes  out 
of  the  heart,  the  uncertainty  goes  out  of  the  steps, 
and  life  marches  to  the  stately  measures  of  bright 
and  triumphant  strains.  "  He  hath  said  "... 
"  So  that  we  say."  Our  speech  takes  its  measures 
from  His  speech.  Our  house  is  built  upon  the 
foundation  of  the   divine  word.     It  ought  to  be 

69 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way* 

a  roomy  house,  for  God's  promise  is  very  rich  and 
plenteous,  and  "  His  commandment  is  exceeding 
broad."  Let  our  meditations  gather  round  about 
both  the  speeches — the  gracious  evangel  of  the 
Father,  and  the  joyful  response  of  the  children. 

"/  will  in  no  wise  fail  thee!'  "  I  will  not  wax 
feeble  towards  thee  when  thy  difficulties  grow 
mighty.  Thy  resources  shall  not  run  out  in  the 
day  of  stress  and  strain.  I  will  not  fail  thee  when 
life  approaches  some  supreme  and  severe  demand." 
Such  appears  to  be  a  little  of  the  wealth  of  the 
gracious  word.  The  promise  proclaims  that  the 
crisis  shall  not  find  us  impoverished.  I  was 
recently  travelling  -  in  an  electric  car  up  one  of 
the  steep  streets  of  a  town  in  the  West  Riding, 
and  when  we  had  reached  the  middle  of  the  ascent 
the  power  suddenly  failed,  and  we  stuck  fast  with 
half  the  height  still  to  be  climbed.  This  may 
provide  us  with  a  figure  by  which  we  may  enter 
into  the  heart  of  the  promise  of  God.  Power  is 
never  to  fail  us  on  "  the  Hill  Difficulty."  The 
moment  of  supreme  test  is  to  be  the  moment  of 
supreme  revelation.  The  most  trying  conditions 
j  of  life  are  to  be  the  seasons  when  the  Father  will 
'  most  be  glorified.  And  so  the  promise  appears  to 
me  to  have  reference  to  two  different  classes  of 
conditions  through  which  every  soul  has  to  pass. 

70 


No  Failing!     No  Forsaking! 

It  has  reference  to  the  sharp  emergency,  and  to 
the  prolonged  monotony. 

He  will  not  fail  us  in  the  sudden  emergency. 
The  rope  will  not  snap  at  the  unexpected  tension. 
The  great  disappointment  shall  not  destroy  our 
steadfastness.  The  receipt  of  bad  news  shall  not  ■ 
extinguish  our  valour.  A  sudden  bereavement 
shall  not  break  our  hearts.  Our  resources  will 
be  sufficient.  The  staying  power  will  remain. 
We  shall  "  stand  it  well,"  for  "  the  Lord  will  in 
no  wise  fail  us." 

He  will  not  fail  in  the  prolonged  monotony. 
Perhaps  the  test  of  monotony  is  more  severe  than 
the  test  of  an  emergency.  Perhaps  the  long  pull 
tends  more  to  exhaustion  than  some  tremendous 
but  momentary  strain.  In  a  cycle  journey  which 
I  took  recently  from  Oxford  to  London,  I  found 
the  latter  half  of  the  journey  far  more  trying  than 
the  earlier  part.  The  earlier  part  of  the  road  was 
full  of  changes,  now  climbing,  now  descending ; 
the  latter  part  was  one  long,  dead,  monotonous 
level.  Along  the  monotonous  level  I  missed  the 
freshening  breeze,  the  expansive  outlook,  the  rest 
which  is  born  of  change.  The  limbs  were  apt  to 
tire,  the  same  muscles  being  unceasingly  exercised 
The  uneven  road  brought  more  muscles  into  play, 
or  changed  the  posture  of  the  limbs,  and  out  of 
the  variety  there  came  strength.     Life  which  has 

71 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

to  trudge  along  the  dead  level  is  in  fearful  peril 
of  exhaustion.  "  Because  they  have  no  changes 
they  fear  not  God."  When  my  difficulty  faces  me 
daily  through  many  years,  or  when  my  pain 
--  becomes  chronic,  or  when  my  anxiety  respectmg 
the  prodigal  child  is  perpetuated  through  half  my 
life,  I  need  the  presence  of  rich  and  most 
nutritious  resources.  It  is  in  these  dead  monotonies 
'  that  Christ  reveals  the  glory  of  His  power.  He 
can  bring  blessedness  even  into  drudgery,  and  the 
long,  long  lane,  which  seems  to  have  never  a 
turning,  may  become  the  very  "  Highway  of  the 
Lord."  In  the  stress  of  startling  crises,  and  in 
the  prolonged  strain  of  a  standing  trouble,  our 
Father  will  in  no  wise  fail  us. 

"  Neither  will  I  in  any  way  forsake  thee!'    This 
adds  an  emphasis  to  the  preceding  word.       The 

J  Lord  will  not  desert  us ;  He  will  not  leave  us 
behind.  He  will  not  drop  us  when  we  grow  old 
and  are  worn  out.  Our  war  correspondents  tell  us 
very  frequently  of  worn-out  horses,  which  are  left 
upon  the  line  of  march  to  die.  Our  God  will  not 
so  forsake  His  children.  The  worn-out  life  He 
rather  "  carries  in  His  bosom."  "  In  Thy  manifold 
mercies  Thou  forsakedst  me  not."  "  When  my 
father  and  mother  forsake  me,  then  the  Lord  will 
take  me  up."     The  frail,  the  easily-spent  are  the 

'^  peculiar  care  of  the  Almighty  God. 

72 


No   Failing  !     No  Forsaking  ! 

How  easily  we  forsake  one  another !  The  lure 
of  gain  will  make  us  forsake  our  friend.  The 
garland  of  the  world  draws  us  into  alienation. 
"  Demas  hath  forsaken  Me,  having  loved  this 
present  evil  world."  The  vision  of  peril  will  drive 
a  man  to  forsake  his  brother.  He  fears  the  perse- 
cutor, so  he  takes  the  way  of  ease.  He  turns  with 
alarm  from  the  valley  of  shadows,  and  abides  in 
the  green  pastures.  "  At  my  first  defence  no  one 
took  my  part ;  they  all  forsook  me."  How 
beautiful  it  is  when  a  man  stands  close  by  his 
exhausted  brother,  and  permits  no  offer  of  gain 
or  threat  of  pain  to  take  him  away.  There  is  no 
more  beautiful  characteristic  of  a  noble  man  than 
that  which  is  attributed  to  Onesiphorus  by  the 
Apostle  Paul :  — "  He  was  not  ashamed  of  my 
chain."  The  Apostle's  captivity  only  drew  his 
comrade  into  closer  and  more  affectionate  bonds. 
His  chains  were  the  ministers  of  a  deeper  spiritual 
wedlock.  This  is  the  abiding  attachment  referred 
to  in  the  text,  only  in  an  infinitely  exalted  degree. 
The  Lord  is  never  repelled  by  our  need ;  rather 
is  it  our  need  by  which  He  is  enticed.  "  I  will  in 
no  wise  forsake  thee." 

Now  let  us  look  at  the  children.  If  they  have 
apprehended  the  Father  s  evangel,  if  the  music  of 
His  word  is  in  their  hearts,  if  they  appreciate  the 

73 


J! 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's   Way. 

strength  of  the  promise,  what  will  be  the  issue  in 
their  life  ? 

^Wit/i  good  courage  we  may  say,  the  Lord  is  my 
Helper!'  Mark  their  fine,  inspiring,  confident 
conception  of  God.  "  My  Helper."  The  word 
is  suggestive  of  one  who  runs  with  succour  at  the 
hearing  of  a  cry.  It  is  the  act  of  a  mother,  who, 
perhaps  amid  much  clamour,  hears  the  faint  cry 
of  her  child  in  the  chamber  above,  and  who  runs 
to  bestow  expressions  of  love  and  of  comfort. 
"  His  ears  are  open  unto  their  cry." 

What  wonderful  examples  we  have  of  "  The 
Helper  "  in  the  New  Testament  Scriptures !  The 
cry  of  an  aching  heart  always  brought  succour 
from  the  Helper.  The  Syro-Phoenician  woman 
came  with  a  breaking  heart,  and  falling  at  His 
feet,  she  cried,  "  Lord,  help  me !  "  and  the  Helper 
gave  of  His  resources,  and  gave  abundantly.  "  Oh, 
woman,  be  it  unto  Thee  even  as  Thou  wilt." 
But  perhaps  a  still  more  suggestive  instance  is  to 
be  found  in  the  story  of  the  father  who  brought  to 
the  Lord  his  son,  who  was  afflicted  with  a  dumb 
spirit.  Twice  does  the  father  ask  for  help,  and 
twice  the  help  was  given.  He  prayed  that  they 
might  be  helped  in  their  tragic  trouble,  and  he 
prayed  that  he  might  be  helped  in  his  wavering 
unbelief.  The  Lord  heard  both  the  heart-cries, 
and   the   needed   succour   was   given.     The   Lord 

74 


No  Failing  !     No  Forsaking  ! 

can  hear  cries  that  never  pierce  the  human  ear. 
There  is  no  sigh  so  low  as  to  escape  His  hearing, 
The  faintest  breath  of  an  aspiration  sounds  hke 
thunder  in  the  ears  of  the  King.  "  He  inchned 
unto  me,  and  heard  my  cry." 

"/  will  not  feary  If  the  Lord  is  Hstening,  and 
heeding,  and  even  anticipating  my  cry,  "  I  will 
not  fear."  I  will  not  be  a  child  of  alarms.  I 
will  not  be  a  victim  of  superstition.  Rather  will  I 
be  a  child  of  faith.  I  will  not  fear  the  visible 
hosts  of  armed  foes,  the  unseen  heights  are  full  of 
horses  and  chariots  of  fire.  I  will  not  fear  the 
cloud,  for  "  He  cometh  in  thick  clouds,"  and  these 
seeming  portents  will  be  only  the  vehicles  of 
heavenly  benediction.  I  will  not  fear  my 
yesterdays,  for  the  "  Helper "  is  my  rearguard. 
"  Goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  me,"  and  by 
the  ministry  of  grace  shall  wipe  out  my  trans- 
gressions. I  will  not  fear  the  lurking  snares  of 
to-day,  for  "  He  will  keep  my  feet."  I  will  not 
fear  the  unknown  experiences  of  to-morrow,  for 
"  my  times  are  in  His  hands."  The  apprehension 
of  the  truth  that  the  Lord  is  "  My  Helper " 
issues  in  a  consequent  fearlessness  which  makes 
my  life  the  progress  of  a  conqueror. 

Now  let  us  finally  bring  the  two  extreme  clauses 
of  the  text  together,  and  we  shall  obtain  the  point 
of  view  from  which  all  life  can  be  seen  in  true 

75 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

perspective  and  proportion.  "  He  Himself  hath 
said.  .  .  .  What  shall  man  do  unto  me  ?" 
Survey  the  antagonisms  of  the  world  with  the 
word  of  the  Almighty  sounding  through  your 
soul,  and  the  antagonisms  will  cease  to  appear 
insuperable.  The  colossal  barrier  will  no  longer 
seem  impenetrable,  and  the  mountains  will  melt 
away  like  smoke.  "  I  can  do  all  things  through 
Christ,  who  strengtheneth  me."  "  I  will  not 
fear."  He  is  always  preparing  a  place  for  me, 
a  place  where  next  in  my  life's  journey  He  will 
call  me  to  stand.  "  Every  valley  shall  be  exalted, 
and  every  mountain  and  hill  shall  be  made  low, 
and'  the  crooked  shall  be  made  straight,  and  the 
rough  places  plain." 


76 


xi* 


Perilous    Sleep* 


**I  think  it  meet  to  stir  you  up  by  putting-  you  in  remem- 
brance."— 2  Peter  i.  ij. 

*'  I   stir    up    your    minds    by    way    of    remembrance."  — 
2  Peter  tit.  i. 

The  peril  suggested  by  the  Apostle  is  that  of  an 
insidious  sleep.  His  readers  were  not  inclined  to 
any  deliberate  revolt  from  the  truth.  They  were 
not  meditating  any  act  of  open  and  avowed 
treachery.  They  were  in  no  immediate  danger  of 
consciously  allying  themselves  with  the  evil  one. 
They  were  not  mustering  their  forces  in  hostility 
to  the  Son  of  God.  The  peril  was  of  another 
kind.  They  were  in  danger  of  almost  uncon- 
sciously dropping  their  enthusiasm,  of  loosing  the 
keenness  of  their  discipleship,  and  of  subsiding  into 
a  fatal  sleep.  The  Apostle  therefore  seeks  to  "  stir 
them  up,"  to  keep  them  awake,  to  preserve  their 

77 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

vivid  apprehension  of  truth  and  their  sense  of  the 
glory  of  the  grace  of  Christ  This  perilous  sleep, 
which  so  easily  encroaches  upon  the  Christian  life, 
may  be  induced  in  many  ways,  and  our  meditation 
may  gather  round  about  those  which  are  perhaps 
the  most  prevalent. 

L    There   is    a  sleep   which   is  begotten   of 
familiarity   with   the   truth. 

That  which  once  startled  us  may  ultimately 
minister  to  a  deeper  slumber.  The  Christmas  bells 
awoke  me  in  the  hours  of  night,  but  I  lay  awake 
until  they  lulled  me  into  sleep  again.  The  alarm 
bell  which  originally  stirred  us  into  the  brightest 
vigilance  may  act  at  last  as  a  lullaby  to  lead  us 
into  deeper  sleep.  The  green  of  the  spring  time 
arrests  us  by  its  novelty,  but  by  summer  time  the 
observation  of  most  people  is  satiated,  and  the 
attention  has  gone  to  sleep.  The  permanent 
grandeur  of  the  night  sky  has  long  since  induced 
the  majority  of  people  into  a  profound  sleep, 
while  a  display  of  fireworks  will  stir  them  into  most 
deliberate  attention.  What  is  the  principle  under- 
lying all  this  ?  Unwilled  observation  is  soon 
satiated  and  goes  to  sleep.  Willed  observation, 
vision  with  executive  force  behind  it,  is  full  of 
discernment,  and  is  continually  making  discoveries 

78 


Perilous    Sleep. 

which  keeps  the  mind  alert  and  interested.  Get  a 
will  behind  the  eye,  and  the  eye  becomes  a  search- 
light, and  the  familiar  is  made  to  disclose  un- 
dreamed-of treasure.  We  must  "  stir  up  the  mind  " 
by  allying  it  to  a  strong,  deliberate,  and  directive 
will.  If  the  familiar  thing  is  to  abound  in  fruitful 
revelations,  if  I  am  not  to  sleep  in  mental  satiety, 
I  must  control  my  observations  with  a  strong  hand, 
so  that,  in  all  its  work,  it  is  as  sharp  and  penetrating 
as  a  needle. 

Is  not  all  this  equally  true  as  to  our  familiarity 
with  Christian  truth  ?  Here  in  the  Word  of  God 
we  have  pictures  of  the  life  of  Christ,  revelations 
of  His  mind  and  disclosures  of  His  heart.  We  may 
become  so  familiar  with  them  that  our  attention 
goes  to  sleep.  There  are  no  further  unveilings, 
no  novelties,  nothing  unexpected,  and  the  familiar 
vision  ceases  to  arrest  our  attention.  What  do  we 
need  ?  We  need  to  "  stir  up  the  mind,"  to  put 
some  force  behind  it,  to  direct  it  in  a  strong,  fresh, 
eager  inquisitiveness.  We  need  to  put  it  into  the 
attitude  of  "  asking,"  "  seeking,"  "  knocking," 
and  the  familiar  presence  will  reveal  itself  in 
unaccustomed  guise.  The  familiar  puts  on 
wonderful  robes  when  approached  by  a  fervent 
inquisitor.  Truth  makes  winsome  revelations  to 
her  devoted  wooers.  Every  day  the  ardent  lover 
makes  a  new  discovery.     If  men  would  come  to 

79 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

the  familiar  pages  of  God's  Word  with  mental 
alertness  analagous  to  that  which  they  bring  to 
the  inspection  of  a  stock-and-share  list,  they  would 
have  gracious  surprises,  which  would  make  the 
heart  buoyant  and  glad.  The  Book  promises  its 
wealth  to  the  wakeful.  There  is  no  book  has  more 
to  say  about  "  unfolding,"  "  reveahng,"  "  manifest- 
ing," "  showing,"  "  declaring,"  and  the  only  con- 
dition is  that  the  spectator  of  the  promised 
apocalypse  should  be  an  ardent  seeker,  stirring  up 
his  mind  in  eager  and  determined  quest. 

11,    There  is  a   sleep  which  is   begotten 
of  decided  opinions* 

There  is  a  very  suggestive  sentence  in  one  of 
John  Stuart  Mill's  essays,  which  will  enable  me 
to  make  my  meaning  perfectly  clear :  "  The  fatal 
tendency  of  mankind  to  leave  off  thinking  about 
a  thing  when  it  is  no  longer  doubtful,  is  the  cause 
of  half  their  errors."  That  is  to  say,  a  decided 
opinion  may  make  a  man  thoughtless  about  his 
opinion  and  may  induce  a  mental  sleep.  It  so 
frequently  happens,  that  when  a  man  has  attained 
a  decided  opinion,  he  ties  a  bit  of  tape  about  it, 
puts  it  away  in  a  pigeon  hole,  and  lapses  into 
unconscious  slumber.  He  leaves  off  thinking 
about   it.      When   the   matter   was   still   doubtful, 

80 


Perilous    Sleep. 

he  was  engaged  in  constant  examination. 
While  the  conclusion  was  still  uncertain,  he 
remained  a  persistent  explorer.  But  now  that 
his  judgment  is  decided,  the  explorer  goes  to 
sleep.  What  is  the  issue  ?  We  lose  a  thing 
when  we  cease  to  think  about  it.  It  is  well  to 
have  decided  thoughts,  but  it  is  bad  and  fatal  to 
stop  thinking.  There  is  need  in  every  life  for  a 
fresh  stream  of  thought  to  be  continually  playing 
about  the  most  cherished  opinions,  principles,  and 
beliefs.  When  the  photographer  is  developing 
his  plate  in  a  dark  room,  he  keeps  the  Hquid  in 
constant  motion,  moving  over  the  face  of  the 
plate,  and  evolving  into  clearer  outline  its  hidden 
wealth.  Our  thought  should  be  continually 
moving  over  the  face  of  truths  and  beliefs, 
bringing  out  into  discernment  lines  and  beauties 
never  before  conceived.  You  have  a  very  decided 
opinion  on  the  Atonement  ?  Then  there  is  a  peril 
that  you  may  cease  to  think  about  it.  The  thing 
is  settled  and  you  may  go  to  sleep.  The  man  who 
has  not  a  very  decided  opinion  about  the  Atone- 
ment may  be  moving  with  doubtful  thought  round 
about  the  great  mystery,  and  may,  after  all,  be 
gathering  fruit  which  may  be  unknown  to  you.  Let 
us  "  stir  up  our  minds "  and  turn  the  stream  of 
our  thought  on  to  our  accepted  beliefs  and  our 
decided  judgments,  that  the  wealth  of  these  may 

8i  P 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

not  remain  stationary,  but  may  reveal  more  and 
more  of  the  hidden  wisdom  of  grace. 

III.    There  is  a  sleep  which   is  begotten 
of  failure. 

Success  can  make  a  man  sleep  by  making  him 
cocksure.  Triumph  can  make  men  careless  and 
thoughtless.  The  glare  of  prosperity  can  close 
men's  eyes  in  slumber.  There  is  a  "  destruction 
that  wasteth  at  noon-tide."  A  perilous  sleep  can 
also  be  begotten  of  failure.  When  repeated 
disappointment  visits  the  life,  when  the  "wet 
blanket "  is  frequently  applied  to  our  fervent 
ambitions,  when  the  fire  in  the  soul  is  damped,  and 
enthusiasm  dies  out,  the  life  is  inclined  to  a  most 
dangerous  sleep.  How  many  there  are  who  were 
once  awake  and  enthusiastic  in  civic  service,  or 
in  seeking  social  ameliorations,  or  in  the  ministry 
of  Christian  instruction,  who  are  now  sunk  in  the 
indifference  of  a  profound  sleep.  They  were  dis- 
appointed with  the  results.  The  grey  conditions  at 
which  they  worked  never  gained  any  colour.  The 
unattractive  lives  to  which  thc)^  ministered  were 
never  transfigured.  The  desert  never  revealed 
even  a  tiny  patch  blossoming  like  the  rose.  And 
so  their  enthusiasm  smouldered.  They  became 
lukewarm.     Their  reforming  energy  abated.     They 

82 


Perilous    Sleep. 

went  to  sleep.  This  is  "  the  pestilence  that  walketh 
in  darkness."  Is  not  this  the  peril  that  the  Apostle 
Paul  anticipated  for  young  and  enthusiastic 
Timothy  ?  He  was  beginning  his  Christian 
discipleship,  fervent,  hopeful,  optimistic,  with  the 
eager  consecration  of  his  entire  strength.  The 
Apostle  knew  that  disappointment  would  confront 
him,  that  cold  water  would  be  thrown  upon  his 
enthusiasm,  that  many  a  hopeful  enterprise  would 
issue  in  apparent  failure,  and  the  young  recruit 
would  be  exposed  to  the  indifference  of  a  fatal 
sleep.  "  Stir  up  the  gift  that  is  in  thee."  Stir  it 
into  flame !  Keep  thy  first  love  ardent  and 
vigorous.  Feed  thy  fires.  Let  disappointment 
only  deepen  thy  consecration,  and  failure  keep  thee 
near  the  well-spring  of  eternal  life. 

IV*     There   is   a  sleep  which   is   begotten    of 
the   enchanted   ground. 

When  difficulties  appear  to  have  vanished  from 
our  life,  when  Apollyon  no  longer  encounters  us 
with  dreadful  front,  when  there  is  no  lion  in  the 
way,  when  the  giants  are  miles  in  the  rear,  and 
the  precipitous  hills,  that  took  so  long  to  climb, 
are  away  back  on  the  far  horizon,  then  we  are  in 
imminent  peril  of  a  most  dangerous  sleep.  "  I 
saw  then  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on  till  they 

83 


J< 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

came  to  a  certain  country,  whose  air  naturally 
tended  to  make  one  drowsy  if  he  came  a  stranger 
into  it.  And  here  Hopeful  began  to  be  very  dull 
and  heavy  of  sleep,  wherefore  he  said  unto 
Christian,  '  I  do  now  begin  to  grow  so  drowsy 
that  I  can  scarcely  hold  up  mine  eyes.  Let  us 
lie  down  here  and  take  a  nap.'  '  By  no  means,' 
said  Christian,  '  lest  sleeping,  we  never  awake 
more.  Let  us  not  sleep  as  do  others,  but  let  us 
watch  and  be  sober.' "  And  how  did  these  two 
pilgrims  contrive  to  keep  themselves  awake  as  they 
journeyed  over  the  enchanted  ground!  "Now 
then,"  said  Christian,  "  to  prevent  drowsiness,  let 
us  fall  into  good  discourse."  "  With  all  my 
heart,"  said  the  other,  "  where  shall  we  begin  ? 
Where  God  began  with  us.?"  The  great 
dreamer  has  summed  up  their  conversation  in 
this  marginal  note,  "Good  discourse  prevents 
drowsiness!'  They  had  an  experience  meeting. 
They  began  with  the  very  first  stages  of  their  con- 
version, and  told  each  other  the  story  of  God's 
redeeming  grace.  They  reviewed  the  miracles  of 
the  Lord's  mercy.  That  is  the  secret  of  safety  for 
any  traveller  over  the  enchanted  ground.  Begin 
your  review  "  where  God  began  with  you."  Tell 
over  to  yourself,  or  to  others,  the  early  story  of  the 
Lord's  dealings  with  you.  Stir  up  your  mind  with 
a  rehearsal  of  the  wonders  and  favours  of  God, 

84 


Perilous    Sleep. 

and  so  far  from  lapsing  into  sleep,  you  shall  be 
kept  awake  in  a  grateful  song.  The  grace  of  the 
Lord  will  occupy  your  heart  with  such  intensity 
that  spiritual  lapse  will  be  impossible. 

"WaU/i  therefore    .    .    .    /est,  coming  suddenly^ 
He  find  you  sleeping" 


85 


XII* 


Beauty   in   the    Heights^ 

*'  He    maketh    grass    to    grow    upon     the     mountains."  — 
Psalm  cxlvii.  8. 

"  He  maketh  grass  to  grow  upon  the  moun- 
tains." Unless  we  read  the  words  in  the 
right  tone,  we  can  never  apprehend  the  trend 
of  their  suggestion.  The  words  are  uttered  in 
a  tone  of  great  surprise.  They  are  much  more 
than  a  descriptive  record  of  a  certain  feature  in 
a  vast  assemblage  of  natural  things.  They  express 
the  unexpected,  the  unique.  The  Psalmist  is  pro- 
foundly surprised  to  find  grass  growing  upon  the 
mountains.  It  would  have  been  ordinary  and 
commonplace,  arousing  no  wonder,  to  have  found 
it  in  the  vale,  but  to  find  it  away  up  in  the  heights 
where  barrenness  usually  reigns,  affected  him  as  the 
suggestion  of  exceptional  power,  and  stirred  him 
into  profound  amazement.     He  discovered  what  he 

86 


Beauty  in   the    Heights. 

thought  to  be  a  native  of  the  valley,  dwelling  upon 
the  mountain  tops.  Have  we  any  similar  surprises 
on  other  planes  of  being  and  life  ?  Are  we  some- 
times startled  by  encountering  the  unexpected  in 
the  heights  ?     Let  us  see. 

I.  ''He  maketh  grass  to  grow  upon  the 
mountains!'  I  am  not  surprised  to  find  piety  at 
the  Carpenter's  bench,  but  I  wonder  to  find  it  in 
the  midst  of  the  Throne.  I  am  grateful  that  Christ 
has  in  these  recent  days  had  the  opportunity  to 
reveal  to  the  world  what  He  can  do  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  a  Throne.  He  frequently  reveals  to 
the  world  the  spiritual  beauty  with  which  He  can 
grace  the  Poet.  It  is  almost  a  commonplace  for 
us  to  behold  His  workmanship  in  the  production 
of  some  pure  and  noble  merchant.  But  only  rarely 
is  He  permitted  to  display  His  sanctified  power 
upon  the  occupant  of  a  throne.  Now  the  claim 
of  the  religion  of  Jesus  is  this,  that  faith  is  effectual 
everywhere.  The  Lord  can  grow  His  flowers  in 
every  place.  His  converts  are  not  taken  from  any 
particular  place  or  vocation.  He  can  make  them 
anywhere.  He  can  grow  His  flowers  in  palaces  or 
in  garrets,  but  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  they  are 
grown  with  equal  ease.  The  Master  has  told  us 
that  there  are  conditions  in  which  it  is  very  difficult 
to  rear  a  saintly  life.  "  How  hard  is  it  for  them 
that  have  riches  to  enter  into  the  Kingdom."     It 

87 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

is  inspiring  therefore  to  know  that  even  in  the 
hardest  places  He  can  redeem  and  beautify  His 
people,  "  He  maketh  grass  to  grow  upon  the 
mountains." 

It  is  a  wonderful  conjunction  to  find  piety  upon 
the  throne.  Study  the  conditions  in  which  the 
choice  temperament  has  to  be  begotten  and 
reared.  The  occupant  of  a  throne  is  the  centre  of 
a  most  lonely  Majesty.  All  who  are  round  about 
her  pay  her  obeisance.  All  who  draw  near  unto 
her  bow  the  knee.  The  altar  of  homage  burns 
without  ceasing.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  in  con- 
ditions so  intoxicating  the  monarch  should  be 
"  lifted  up "  in  perilous  self-dependence,  and  God 
should  be  exiled  from  the  thought.  But  in  our 
own  day  the  Lord  has  made  it  plain  to  us  that  even 
on  these  far  and  lonely  heights  He  can  rear  a  saint. 
Piety  is  blooming  about  the  seat  of  majesty.  The 
Queen,  to  whom  everybody  bowed  the  knee,  her- 
self bowed  the  knee  to  a  greater.  She  reverently 
recognised  God.  She  has,  by  the  intimacy  of  her 
fellowship,  and  by  the  fervour  of  her  devotion, 
made  the  hallowed  words  upon  our  coins  infinitely 
more  than  members  of  a  legal  and  official  phrase- 
ology. She  has  transfigured  them,  and  made  them 
shine  as  radiant  truth.  Of  her  it  may  be  said 
that  she  was  "  Fidei  Defensor,"  as  Paul  himself 
was  able  to  say  "  I  have  kept  faith."     Of  her,  too, 

88 


Beauty   in  the    Heights* 

it  is  well  and  true  to  say  she  was  sovereign  "  Gratia 
Dei,"  for  the  grace  of  God  was  the  empowering 
energy  in  her  long  and  beneficent  career.  In 
these  stupendous  heights  of  majesty  I  marvel  to 
find  a  soul  upon  its  knees.  I  wonder  to  find  a 
flower  of  piety  blooming  in  the  mountains. 

2.  I  am  not  surprised  to  find  lowliness  adorning 
a  subject,  but  I  wonder  to  find  it  dwelling  in  the 
very  heart  of  sovereignty.  It  is  a  rare  thing  to 
find  lowliness  in  the  heights.  What  do  we  mean 
by  lowliness  ?  It  is  a  word  which  is  grievously 
impoverished,  and  much  misunderstood.  It  is 
sometimes  associated  with  the  shrinking  spirit ;  a 
Httle  less  frequently  it  is  regarded  as  synonymous 
with  the  cringing.  Its  meaning  is  far  otherwise. 
A  man  may  shrink  from  a  high  calling,  and  may 
not  be  lowly.  His  shrinking  may  be  the  child  of 
his  pride.  The  New  Testament  uses  the  word  with 
quite  other  significance.  Perhaps  if  we  call  to  our 
mind  the  figure  of  a  carpet  or  of  a  rug,  we  may 
be  helped  near  to  the  New  Testament  conception 
of  the  word.  When  the  carpets  are  up  in  the 
house  there  is  a  sense  of  general  forlornness  and 
discomfort.  The  hollow  sounds  in  the  house  make 
the  home  sepulchral.  When  things  are  put  straight 
again  how  comforting  it  is  to  have  the  carpets 
down.  Or  recall  the  comfort  which  the  use  of  a  rug 
gives  to  one  in  journeying.     Or  call  to  mind  how 

89 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

refreshing  it  is  to  leave  the  hard  dusty  highway, 
where  your  feet  have  become  weary  and  sore,  and 
to  turn  on  to  the  fringe  of  grass  which  now  carpets 
the  wayside.  All  these  figures  will  lead  us  to  the 
central  suggestion  of  the  meaning  of  lowliness. 
It  is  a  laying  down  of  one's  sympathies  and 
affections,  and  making  as  it  were  a  carpet  or  rug 
of  them  that  the  chills  and  pains  of  the  world 
may  be  removed.  The  man  who  is  lowly  has 
kind  purposes,  friendly  feelings,  beneficent  deeds, 
and  these  are  spread  out  before  the  lives  of  others, 
that  the  bareness  of  living,  and  the  coldness  of 
living,  and  the  soreness  of  living,  may  be  partially 
taken  away.  A  man  who  "  lays  down  his  life  "  that 
he  may  bring  rest  and  comfort  and  joy  to  another, 
is  essentially  a  lowly  man.  A  man  who  offers  the 
leisure-time  of  his  days  to  ministering  to  bruised 
and  broken  lives,  is  graced  with  the  Christian  robe 
of  lowliness. 

Now  this  kind  of  lowliness  is  a  commonplace 
among  the  poor.  I  am  not  surprised  when  I  find 
a  member  in  one  of  the  poor  courts  of  a  crowded 
city,  spreading  out  her  affections  and  her  sym- 
pathies for  another  to  rest  upon.  But  I  am  amazed 
when  I  find  this  disposition  allied  with  sovereignty. 
Power  usually  makes  for  pride.  It  creates  a  spirit 
of  exclusiveness.  It  often  issues  in  cruelty.  One 
can  frequently  trace  the  evil  influence  of  power  in 

90 


Beauty  in   the    Heights. 

a  master  who  has  just  been  created  out  of  a 
working-man.  The  transformation  is  often  creative 
of  hardness,  and  sympathy  is  narrowed  or 
destroyed.  Young  mistresses,  intoxicated  with 
the  sense  of  power,  are  often  thoughtless  towards 
their  servants.  Power  of  any  kind  is  apt  to"  freeze 
the  genial  currents  of  the  soul,"  and  to  be  a  great 
enemy  to  the  spirit  of  lowliness.  But  the  Lord 
can  grow  this  grass  in  the  heights. 

3.  I  am  not  surprised  to  find  the  virtue  of 
temperance  in  conditions  of  scanty  or  moderate 
affluence,  but  I  am  surprised  to  find  it  in  conditions 
of  sumptuousness  and  wealth.  "  How  oft  the  sight 
of  means  to  do  ill  deeds  makes  ill  deeds  done." 
To  behold  the  means  to  gratify  the  appetite  often 
leads  to  the  gratification.  Appetite  often  sleeps 
where  the  means  to  please  it  are  not  abounding. 
It  is  so  easy  for  those  who  are  sumptuously  placed 
to  spend  their  lives  in  eating,  drinking  and  merry 
making.  It  is  so  easy  for  the  wealthy  to  become 
morally  vulgar,  and  to  lose  their  virtuous  self- 
control.  I  therefore  wonder  when  one  meets  the 
grace  of  a  rigid  self-control  in  circumstances  of 
overflowing  affluence.  But  the  Grace  of  God  can 
accomplish  it.  He  can  grow  this  flower  in  the 
heights.  He  can  cultivate  souls  of  puritan  tem- 
perament in  conditions  which  appear  to  be  intensely 
hostile  to  its  creation.     In  the  midst  of  all  manner 

91 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

of  sensational  enticements  He  can  keep  the 
pleasures  simple,  natural,  and  homely,  and  in  a 
land  which  flows  with  milk  and  honey,  He  can 
preserve  the  appetite  in  healthy  self-restraint. 

"  He  maketh  grass  to  grow  upon  the  mountains." 
If  the  Lord  can  do  this  on  the  mountains,  what 
may  He  do  in  the  vales  ?  If  He  can  grow  choice 
temperaments  in  the  heights  of  majesty  and  power, 
what  may  He  grow  in  the  quieter  places  of  obscurity 
and  seclusion  ?  The  majority  of  us  are  children 
of  the  valley.  We  are  not  called  upon  to  occupy 
any  conspicuous  place.  The  blasts  that  shake  the 
heights  do  not  disturb  us.  God  has  not  called 
us  to  the  supreme  difficulty  of  an  exalted  station. 
Let  us  ask  ourselves  the  searching  question — have 
we  permitted  the  Lord  to  beautify  the  vale  ?  The 
plain  may  be  a  desert,  or  it  may  blossom  like  a 
rose.  Let  us  ask  the  great  Renewer  to  take  us 
in  hand,  and  clothe  us  in  His  own  unspeakable 
beauty. 


92 


*  *  t 

xm. 


''  Dying,  We  Live/' 

**  Except  a  grain  of  wheat  fall  into  the  ground  and  die, 
it  abideth  by  itself  alone,  but  if  it  die  it  bring-eth  forth  much 
fruit." 

"  Except  a  grain  of  wheat " — a  germ  of  life,  a 
promise,  a  potency,  a  possibility — "  fall  into  the 
ground," — enter  into  fellowship  with  other  forces, 
merge  itself  in  the  dissolving,  evolving  powers 
of  the  broad  earth — "  it  abideth  by  itself  alone  " 
— it  never  gets  any  further,  it  never  enters  into 
a  richer  realisation ;  it  remains  a  promise,  a  mere 
potentiality,  a  bare  possibility,  and  does  not 
discover  the  wealth  that  hes  enshrined  in  its  own 
heart 

Except  a  human  soul — the  germinal  promise 
of  unutterable  wealth — enters  into  fellowship  with 
other  souls,  loses  itself  in  the  larger  interests  of  a 
broad    humanity,    buries    itself    in    the    common 

93 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

ground  of  the  race,  "  it  abideth  by  itself  alone," 
an  unfulfilled  promise,  a  sleeping  possibility,  never 
realising  the  wealth  of  its  own  endowment 
"  Except  a  grain  of  wheat  fall  into  the  ground 
and  die,"  its  powers  remained  unpacked,  and  the 
joy  of  harvest  is  unborn.  Except  a  hfe  is  buried 
in  the  common  life  all  manner  of  autumn  glory  is 
imprisoned  and  unsprung.  Resurrection  is  subse- 
quent to  burial :  maturity  waits  upon  communion. 
The  powers  of  a  life  never  ripen  to  their  prime 
until  the  life  is  lost  in  the  interests  of  a  wealthy 
fellowship. 

"Except  a  corn  of  wheat  fall  into  the  ground 
and  die  it  abideth  by  itself  alone!'  Then  the 
cure  of  loneliness  is  death.  "  It  abideth  by  itself 
alone."  That  is  a  most  chilling  and  impoverishing 
loneliness.  It  is  the  loneliness  of  incessant  self- 
remembrance.  It  is  the  loneliness  of  a  life  that  is 
always  with  itself,  that  never  loses  itself,  that 
never  forgets  itself,  a  life  that  never  bleeds  for 
others,  that  never  expends  beneficent  energy  for 
others,  that  never  satisfies  itself  in  thoughtful 
sympathy  for  others.  It  is  the  loneliness  of  a  life 
that  never  occupies  the  common  stand-point,  and 
never  loses  itself  in  the  crowd.  "  It  abideth  by 
itself  alone."  It  is  the  loneliness  of  the  egotist,  of 
the  man  whose  world  is  himself,  who  never  gets 
away  from  himself,   who   never   dies   to   his   little 

94 


''Dying,  We   Live." 

sphere  that  he  may  live  a  larger  life  in  the  wider 
spheres  of  the  race. 

There  is  a  nervous  disease  know  to  physicians 
as    chorea,    and    in    this    distemper    "the    patient 
sometimes    turns    round    and    continues    to    spin 
slowly  on  one  spot."     Egotism  is  just  an  incessant 
spinning  on  one  spot.     Sometimes  we  spin  slowly 
round     about    our     own     particular     talent.       Or  v 
perhaps  the  centre  of  our  egotism  is  our  suffering.  | 
How  prone  we  are  just  to  spin  round  about  our  V 
own  pains  and  complaints!     An  ailment  is  apt  to 
make    us    think    ourselves    interesting    to    other 
people,   and  we  move   as   the   craving   absorbents 
of    the    world's    sympathy.       We    all    know    the 
sufferer   who   ever   pilots   the    conversation   round 
about  his  own  pains,  and  if  it  appears  to  stray  for 
a  moment  from  the  line  of  the  recital  of  his  sombre 
symptoms,  he  sharply  turns  it  back  again  to  his 
all-engrossing    centre!       We    are    apt    to    find    a 
melancholy  pleasure  in  "  tearing  the  lint  from  our 
bruises   and   the   bandages   from   our   limbs,"   and 
moving  in   fascinated   contemplation   of   our   own 
complaints. 

Now,    the    egotist    is    exceedingly    lonely,    and  ff 
becomes  increasingly  so,  and  that  by  the  eternal    f 
law  of  God.     It  is  a  dry,  parched,  arid  loneliness, 
for   the   genial   springs   and   currents   of   the   soul 
have  never  been  unsealed.       Incessant  self-regard 

95 


Brooks  by  the   Traveller's  Way. 

imprisons  a  life  in  the  wintriest  impoverishment. 
If  I  would  attain  unto  a  life  that  is  bright,  genial, 
fruitful  and  interesting,  I  must  cease  to  spin  upon 
a  point  and  move  in  wider  fields.  I  must  die  to 
self  and  be  born  in  brother.  I  must  be  born  into 
another  man's  life,  into  his  interests  and  affairs, 
into  his  joys  and  sorrows,  his  pains  and  disappoint- 
ments, his  conquests  and  defeats.  I  must  be  bom 
into  my  brother's  world,  and  stand  at  his  point  of 
view,  and  contemplate  the  landsca^pe  of  life  from 
his  window.  How  does  life  look  through  the  eyes 
of  the  poor  ^  I  must  be  born  into  their  world 
and  gain  the  sympathetic  vision.  How  does  life 
appear  through  the  eyes  of  the  rich .?  I  must  seek 
to  gain  their  point  of  view  and  survey  the  hills 
and  the  vales,  the  slippery  slopes  and  the  dangerous 
crossings  which  fill  the  hne  of  their  sight.  The 
old  man  must  not  forget  the  world  of  the  young 
man,  and  the  young  man  must  think  himself 
sympathetically  into  the  world  of  the  old  man. 
The  sectarian  must  sensitively  interpret  his  brother 
sectarian  who  worships  over  the  way,  and  the 
political  partisan  must  seek  an  intelligent 
apprehension  of  the  other  partisan  who  sits  on 
the  opposite  bench.  Health  must  seek  to  realise 
the  glooms  of  sickness,  and  sickness  must  strive 
sympathetically  to  apprehend  the  glgwing  vistas 
which  stretch  away  in  the  land  of  health.       We 

96 


44 


Dying,  We    Live/' 


must  die  to  self,  and  be  born  in  one  another's 
worlds.  We  must  call  out  and  employ,  in 
sanctified  exercise,  the  elevating-  faculty  of  the  ^ 
imagination.  Egotism  is  born  when  imagination  x, 
is  dormant.  The  man  of  little  imagination  is 
always  the  victim  of  large  conceit.  Small 
imaginations  are  always  creative  of  petty  worlds, 
and  in  the  tiny  world  the  little  self  looks  colossal. 
What  is  the  function  of  imagination  ?  Imagination 
is  the  exploring  faculty  prospecting  other  worlds. 
It  exercises  itself  in  the  unseen.  It  seeks  to  realise 
what  is  proceeding  behind  the  blank  and  un- 
suggestive  wall.  It  strives  to  pierce  the  veil  and 
vesture  of  the  flesh,  and  to  interpret  the  mystic 
hfe  behind.  It  endeavours  to  enter  into  another 
man's  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  to  gather  up  the 
significant  movements  of  his  spirit.  It  is  imagina- 
tion, lofty  and  sanctified,  that  takes  me  out  of 
myself  and  places  me  in  the  home  of  another  self. 
Where  imagination  is  weak,  or  listless,  or  asleep, 
other  selves  become  obscurities  or  nonentities,  and 
our  own  swelling  self  fills  the  entire  scene.  And 
so  we  have  John  Ruskin  making  the  startling 
assertion  that  "  an  unimaginative  person  can  never 
be  reverent  or  kind."  The  assertion  is  self-con- 
firmatory. The  imagination  is  just  a  refined, 
discerning  sensitiveness,  and  where  this  is  absent 
there  can  be  no  perception  of  the  venerable,  and 

97  o 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

where  man  does   not  perceive   the  venerable,   he 
cannot  be  reverent,  and  where  there  is  no  reverence 
there  is  the  spirit  of  harshness  and  cruelty,  and 
man  can  never  be  kind.     Imagination  delivers  me 
from   incessant   self-regard — from   merely   looking 
upon  my  own  things, — and  enables  me  to  adopt  the 
Apostolic  counsel,  and  to  "  look  upon  the  things  of 
others."     When  imagination  lifts  me  into  the  world 
of    my   brother,    there    arises    a    need    of    a    new 
vocabulary.     New  things  come  into  existence  for 
which  new   terms   are   required.     The   old   lonely 
life  had  no  need  of  the  terms,  because  the  things 
themselves  did  not  exist.     Now,  with  the  death  to 
self,  beautiful  intimacies  are  born,  and  I  require 
such   great   and   wide-reaching  words   as   these — 
sympathy,     fellowship,     communion,     co-operation, 
and  the  whole  vocabulary  of  brotherly  speech  which 
rings  in  the  Kingdom  of  God.     When  a  hallowed 
imagination  is  at  work,  egotism  dies,  and  with  the 
death  of  egotism,  loneliness  is  destroyed.     "  Except 
a  corn  of  wheat  fall  into  the  ground  and  die,  it 
abideth  by  itself  alone." 

''But  if  it  die  it  bringeth  forth  much  fruit" 
Then  death  to  self  is  not  only  the  cure  of  loneliness, 
it  is  the  secret  of  fruitfulness.  "  It  bringeth  forth 
much  fruit."  "  To  die " — to  bury  yourself  in 
others — is  the  secret  of  personal  fruitfulness. 
Impartation    is    the    clue    of    multipHcation.      We 

98 


44 


Dying,   We  Live/^ 


must  get  away  from  self  if  we  want  self-treasures 
to  be  beautified  To  give  a  thing  is  more 
really  to  possess  it.  How  is  it  with  a  truth  ?  Here 
is  a  truth  which  has  been  given  to  me.  What 
shall  I  do  with  it .''  Shall  I  merely  lock  it  up  in 
some  strong  secret  room  of  the  mind  .'*  Then  I 
shall  lose  it,  or  retain  it  only  as  a  dim  and 
corroding  treasure.  How,  then,  shall  I  keep  it .'' 
Impart  it,  and  in  the  very  act  of  imparting  I  shall 
more  truly  possess  it.  There  is  not  a  Sunday 
School  teacher  who  does  not  know  how  a  truth 
which  has  lain  dull  and  unattractive  on  the  floor 
of  the  mind  for  years,  has  shone  resplendently 
while  he  sought  to  impart  it  to  his  scholars.  He 
said  he  never  really  saw  it  till  he  began  to  teach 
it.  Truth  never  puts  on  its  most  beautiful 
garments  until  it  is  being  given  away.  The 
disciple  never  sees  the  superb  glory  of  the  truth 
until  he  becomes  an  apostle.  If  we  bury  the 
truth  in  self  it  soon  appears  tarnished ;  if  we  share 
it  with  a  brother  it  shines  like  a  star.  While  we 
give  we  all  the  better  possess ;  if  we  die,  things 
germinate  into  richer  loveliness ;  we  "  bring  forth 
much  fruit." 

It  is  not  otherwise  with  the  Church.  If  the 
Church  shrink  into  a  club,  self-contained,  self- 
sufficient,  it  "  shall  abide  by  itself  alone," 
unconscious    of   its    own    heritage,    imprisoned    in 

99 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

chills  and  infertility.  But  if  the  Church  dies  she 
"bringeth  forth  much  fruit."  The  Church  must 
get  out  of  herself,  must  die  to  herself,  must 
become  apostolic  and  missionary,  both  at  home 
and  abroad.  For  her  own  sake  the  Church  must 
be  apostolic,  going  out  to  prospect  among  men 
with  the  word  of  her  great  evangel.  The  Church 
will  lose  the  grip  and  beauty  of  the  truth  if  she 
fail  in  her  commission.  The  Church  never  really 
claims  a  truth  until  she  has  proclaimed  it.  When 
she  takes  a  truth,  and  gets  away  from  her 
comfortable  self,  and  enacts  the  truth  before 
others,  the  truth  is  lifted  up  before  her  own  vision, 
verified,  clarified,  glorified.  She  stands  in  the 
midst  of  her  mission  with  her  own  treasures 
burnished  and  refined.  But  if  we  drop  the 
mission,  and  sink  into  a  cosy  club,  if  we  drop  the 
apostolic  and  become  self-centred  ecclesiastical 
egotists,  we  shall  abide  by  ourselves  alone,  and 
the  winter  of  our  isolation  will  rob  us  even  of  the 
bloom  we  bear,  and  we  shall  lapse  into  moral  and 
spiritual  sterility.  This  is  the  explanation  of 
much  of  the  spiritual  barrenness  which  prevails 
among  men  and  Churches.  We  spin  too  much  on 
one  spot.  Life  would  become  more  fruitful  if  we 
shifted  our  ground.  It  is  when  life  becomes  self- 
forgetful    that    our    powers    are    raised    to    their 

I  GO 


44 


Dying,  We  Live/' 


highest  significance.  Graces  speedily  germinate 
in  the  atmosphere  of  sacrifice.  The  Hfe  bringeth 
forth  much  fruit. 


lOI 


XIV. 

Statutes   become   Songs* 

"But  I  say  unto  you,  Love  your  enemies,  bless  them  that 
curse  you,  do  g-ood  to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for  them 
which  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute  you  :  that  ye  may 
be  the  children  of  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven." — 
Matthew  v,  44,  45. 

"  That  ye  may  be  the  children  of  your  Father 
which  is  in  heaven."  "  The  children."  There  is 
a  wide  difference  between  a  mere  connection  and 
a  kinsman.  One  is  in  the  sphere  of  the  legal  and 
artificial ;  the  other  is  in  the  vital  and  natural. 
One  is  determined  by  a  certificate ;  the  other 
resides  in  the  blood.  There  is  an  equally  wide 
and  more  profound  distinction  between  offspring 
and  children.  One  is  suggestive  of  common 
blood  ;  the  other  of  common  spirit.  One  indicates 
relationship ;  the  other  implies  fellowship.  Joel 
and   Abiah,   who   "  turned   aside   after   lucre,   and 

102 


Statutes   become   Songs. 

took  bribes,   and  perverted   judgment,"   were   not 
the  children  of  Samuel ;   they  were  only  his  fleshly 
seed  and  offspring.     To  be  a  child  is  to  share  a 
spirit     Not  to  share  the  spirit  is  to  be  only  the 
seed.     "Abraham    is    our    father."     No,    "ye    are 
of  your  father  the  devil."     Your  deeper   spiritual 
movements  have  their  origin  and  affinity  in  him. 
To   be   a   child   means   more   than   succession;    it 
means  repetition   of   the   life   which   gave   us   our 
birth.        It  means   more   than   descent;    it   means 
spiritual  Hkeness.     "  Blessed  are  the  peacemakers, 
for  they  shall  be  called  the  children  of  God  "  ;   so 
beautifully  do  they  reflect  and  repeat  the  spirit  of 
our  God.       "  Love  your  enemies,  bless  them  that 
curse      you      .      .      .      that      ye      may      be      the 
children   of  your   Father  which  is   in  heaven."     I 
shall  be  a  child,  revealing  and  repeating  a  Father. 
If  I  do  this  I  reflect  Him.     The  child  unveils  the 
Father.       Then    mark    this    principle,    What    He 
wishes  me  to  be,  He  is.     He  says  that  if  I  love,  I 
shall  be  like  Him,  a  child  of  my  Father  who  is  in 
heaven.      What  is  the   significance  of  this.?     His 
commandments  are  revelations  of  Himself.     If  I 
gaze  at  what  He  commands  me  to  be  I  shall  see 
what   He    is.       Have    we    sufficiently    thought    of 
this  ?       We   have    looked   for    revelations    of    our 
God  in  the  promises ;   have  we  sought  the  revela- 
tions  in  the   commandments?      We   have   looked 

103 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

into  the  commandments  for  our  duties ;  have  we 
looked  for  our  comforts  ?  It  throws  a  tender, 
mellow,  softening  light  round  about  apparent 
severity.  Take  the  most  searching  and  exacting 
commandment  you  can  find  in  the  Sacred  Word. 
Say  to  yourself — "  This  is  what  a  child  is  to  be 
like ;  this,  then,  is  what  the  Father  is  like,"  and 
use  the  apparently  stern  commandment  as  an  open 
window  through  which  to  gaze  upon  the  incom- 
parable and  inspiring  loveliness  of  the  eternal  God. 
The  commandments  laid  upon  men  are  revelations 
of  God.  That  which  stands  alone  as  a  command- 
ment appals  me ;  seen  as  a  revelation  it  fills  me 
with  rejoicing. 

Now,  let  me  turn  the  light  of  this  principle 
upon  two  or  three  exceeding  broad  and  uncom- 
promising commandments  which  confront  us  in 
the    Word    of    God. 

I.  "  Love  your  enemies,  bless  them  that  curse 
you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray 
for  them  that  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute 
you."  The  brilliance  of  the  ideal  almost  consumes 
me.  The  vastness  of  the  height  tends  to  make 
me  faint  and  despondent  even  before  I  leave  the 
base.  Let  us  hold  the  commandment  squarely 
before  us.  "  Love  your  enemies."  The  man  who 
makes  your  misery  his  policy,  who  dogs  your  steps, 
who   sets   snares   for  your  feet,   who   twists  your 

104 


Statutes   become   Songs. 

words,  who  is  always  pointing  out  the  fly  in  the  , 
ointment,  and  who  is  never  happier  than  when  he  is  \ 
slowly   dropping  bitterness   into   your   cup ;    your 
eneyny,  love  him.     There  must  be  no  fiery  retalia- 
tion, no  mere  chilling  toleration,  no  proud  and  lofty 
contempt.       I   must  remain  well-disposed  toward 
him,  watching  my  opportunity  to  save  him  from 
himself.     My  enemy  is  first  of  all  an   enemy  to  \ 
himself.     The  bitterness  which  he  drops  into  my 
cup  has,  first  of  all,  poisoned  his  own.      I  must  be 
lovingly  alert  for  his  salvation.     "  Do  good  to  them 
that  hate  you."     If  opportunity  should  place  him 
in  thy  power,  let  there  be  no  rejoicing  because  thou 
hast  him  "  on  the  hip."       Use  the  opportunity  in 
the  ministry  of  goodness!     Ferret  out  a  way  of 
doing  a  kindness,   and   take   the  beautiful   living 
branch  and  drop  it  into  the  waters  of  bitterness,  if    } 
perchance  they  may  be  raade  sweet.     "  Do  good 
to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for  them  which 
despitefully  use  you  and  persecute  you."  Remember 
them  upon  thy  knees.       Name  them  quietly  and 
kindly  in  thy  most  secret  place.     Offer  them  the 
highest  privilege  it  is  in  thy  power  to  grant — the 
privilege  of  being  remembered  when  thou  art  face 
to  face  with  God.      Forget  the  superficial  injury  ?' 
he  inflicts  upon  thee  in  the  absorbing  thought  of  .  * 
the  fatal  injury  he  is  inflicting  upon  himself.     On 
thy   part  he   creates   bitterness ;    on   his  part   he 

105 


Brooks   by  the    Traveller's   Way* 

\  commits  suicide.  Therefore  for  their  sakes,  "  love 
your  enemies,  bless  them  that  curse  you,  do  good 
to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for  them  which 
despitefully  use  you  and  persecute  you." 

The  demands  of  the  command  are  appalling. 
The  command  is  so  exceeding  broad  as  to 
stretch  across  the  entire  path  of  my  life,  and  there 
is  no  possible  margin  for  compromise  or  evasion. 
If  I  confine  my  attention  to  the  commandment 
and  its  relationship  to  me,  I  am  oppressed  and 
discouraged  by  the  firm  breadth  of  its  demands. 
Why  should  I  bow  to  the  commandment  ?  That 
I  may  be  a  child  of  the  Father.  This  is  what  a 
child  is  like ;  so  through  this  I  see  my  Father. 
The  commandment  becomes  a  revelation,  and  I 
am  filled  with  an  inspiring  and  aspiring  sense  of 
rejoicing.     What  God  wants  me  to  be.  He  is. 

"  Love  your  enemies."  Look  through  that 
window  at  God.  God  loves  His  enemies.  Don't 
let  the  energy  of  that  great  truth  be  wasted  in  a 
vague  and  diffused  generality.  God  loves  His 
enemies.  He  is  vigilantly  alert  to  redeem  us 
from  ourselves.  From  Him  there  proceeds  a 
river  of  mighty  beneficent  energy  working  round 
about  us  to  accompHsh  our  redemption.  Love  in 
God  is  no  idle  or  passive  sentiment.  A  mother's 
love  is  just  a  bequest  from  the  heart  of  God.  All 
her  finest,  most  exquisite,  and  tenderest  instincts 

1 06 


Statutes    become    Songs, 

have  been  communicated  to  her  out  of  the 
unsearchable  riches  of  God.  A  mother's  purest 
love  is  just  a  broken  piece  of  the  ineffable  love  of 
God.  All  the  deep  feelings  of  parental  solicitude 
are  but  echoes  of  the  primary  reality  that  dwells 
in  the  heart  of  God.  And  this  love  of  the 
Eternal  is  at  work  about  His  enemies,  seeking  to 
deliver  them  from  their  enmity,  and  to  lift  them 
into  the  sweet  and  spacious  condition  of  spiritual 
health.  There  is  no  one,  however  remote  he  may 
be  from  God,  however  wretched  and  dejected, 
however  shameless  and  unclean,  to  whom  the 
eternal  love  is  not  ministering,  as  a  mother  stoops 
with  yearning  solicitude  over  her  sickly  child. 
That  is  a  wonderful  word  of  the  Psalmist's,  and 
abounding  with  cheer  and  inspiration,  "  Thou  hast 
loved  my  soul  out  of  the  pit."  Thou  hast  loved 
me  out  of  it !  Have  we  not  known  men  who  have 
been  loved  out  of  meanness  and  out  of  looseness 
bv  the  unwearied  affection  of  a  noble  wife  ?  Their 
character  was  elevated  by  the  persistent  applica- 
tion of  a  mystic  gravitation  which  they  were 
unable  to  resist  God  loves  His  enemies,  and 
loves  them  out  of  the  pit !  He  does  good  "  to 
them  that  hate  Him."  His  mercies  do  not  cease 
with  our  obedience.  He  prepares  green  pastures 
for  us  when  our  just  reward  would  be  a  desert, 
and  He  leads  us  by  still  waters  when  we  might 

107 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

have  expected  a  land  of  drought.  God  loves  His 
enemies,  and  does  good  to  them  that  hate  Him. 
This  fills  me  with  rejoicing,  and  makes  the  soul  to 
exult  in  the  power  of  a  quenchless  hope.  So  I 
will  interpret  His  commandments  as  revelations. 
They  shall  first  of  all  tell  me,  not  what  I  must  be, 
but  what  God  is,  and  the  inspiration  of  the  glorious 
vision  shall  nerve  and  brace  me  for  the  task — by 
the  attainment  of  which  I  become  my  Father's 
child.  "  Love  your  enemies,"  and  so  be  a  child. 
God  is  the  Father,  and  so  loves  the  children. 

2.  Now,  turn  the  light  of  the  principle  upon 
another  commandment,  calculated,  I  think,  to  fill 
us  with  fear.  "  Lord,  how  oft  shall  my  brother 
sin  against  me  and  I  forgive  him  ?  Till  seven 
times  ?"  "  I  say  not  unto  thee  until  seven  times, 
but  until  seventy  times  seven."  That  is  a  sugges- 
tion that  these  things  are  not  to  be  governed  by 
mere  processes  of  counting ;  that  they  belong  to  a 
province  where  arithmetic  has  no  sovereignty,  and 
where  quite  other  measures  and  standards  hold 
the  throne.  Let  us  deepen  the  clear  significance 
of  the  teaching.  "  If  thy  brother  trespass  against 
thee,  rebuke  him ;  and  if  he  repent,  forgive  him ; 
and  if  he  trespass  against  thee  seven  times  in  a 
day,  and  seven  times  in  a  day  turn  again  to  thee, 
saying,  'I  repent,'  thou  shalt  forgive  him."  That 
seems  an  overwhelming  ideal!     I  do  not  wonder 

1 08 


Statutes    become    Songs. 

that  the  apostles,  to  whom  the  word  was  spoken, 
fearfully  perceived  the  vastness  of  the  demand, 
and  instinctively  broke  into  speech  which  was  both 
confession  and  prayer — "  Lord,  increase  our  faith !" 
What  is  the  principle  of  the  commandment  ?  The 
principle  is  this,  that  arithmetic  plays  no  part 
in  real  forgiveness,  that  mere  counting  is  not 
to  determine  the  outgoings  of  mercy  and  grace. 
But  what  a  large  part  we  allow  arithmetic  to  play 
in  common  life !  How  many  of  us  have  ever 
forgiven  a  man  three  times  ?  "  As  this  is  the  first 
time,  I  forgive  you,  but — ."  And  we  carry  the 
memory  of  the  first  offence  forward  and  forward, 
and  in  the  second  offence  condign,  and  final 
judgment  is  inflicted  for  both.  Our  arithmetic 
is  our  ruler.  That  is  not  the  prescribed  way  of 
the  Word.  To  forgive,  and  forgive,  and  forgive, 
and  on  each  fresh  offence  not  to  count  the  last — 
to  have  no  arithmetic  in  these  high  regions — this 
is  to  make  demands  upon  our  grace  which  we 
have  apparently  no  resources  to  meet.  And  that 
is  perfectly  true  if  we  confine  ourselves  to  the 
bald  limits  of  the  commandment.  We  want  an 
inspiration,  if  the  aspiration  is  to  be  more  than  a 
mocking  dream. 

Where  shall  we  get  the  inspiration  ?  Apply 
our  principle ;  the  commandment  laid  upon  men 
is   a   revelation   of   God.       What   makes    a    child 

109 


/ 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

reveals  the  Father.  What  God  wants  us  to  be, 
He  is.  Take  the  commandment,  then,  and  use  it 
as  a  window  to  look  at  God !  "  Not  seven  times, 
but  seventy  times  seven."  That  is  the  character 
of  the  forgiveness  measured  out  to  us  by  the 
eternal  God!  There  is  no  arithmetic  in  the 
transaction,  no  severe  counting  of  the  forgiveness 
of  yesterday.  "  I,  even  I,  am  He  that  blotteth  out 
thy  transgressions  .  .  and  will  not  remember  thy 
sins."  I  fell  yesterday,  and  sincerely  I  turned 
to  the  Lord  for  forgiveness,  and  "  He  incHned  unto 
me,  and  heard  my  cry"  I  have  fallen  again  to-day 
I  would  like  humbly  to  seek  His  gate  that  I  may 
tell  Him  the  sad  and  saddening  story  Will  He 
heed  me  if  I  knock  at  the  door?  Or  shall  I  be 
spurned  away  ?  Will  the  dogs  be  turned  upon  me, 
or  shall  I  hear  the  heartening  voice,  "  Come  in, 
my  beloved !"  "  If  he  trespass  against  thee  seven 
times  a  day,  and  seven  times  in  a  day  turn  again 
to  thee,  saying,  I  repent,  thou  shalt  forgive  him." 
Through  that  commandment  I  see  my  God.  I 
will  not  be  afraid  to  knock  at  His  door.  As  old 
Samuel  Rutherford  says,  "It  becomes  us  still  to 
knock,  and  to  die  knocking."  I  hold  up  this 
commandment  concerning  forgiveness,  that  in  it 
you  may  see  the  beauty  of  your  God.  The  com- 
mandment becomes  a  revelation,  and  in  the 
inspiration  of  the  revelation  the  commands  may  be 
fulfilled. 

110 


Unfulfilled    Impulse* 

"Lord,  I  will  follow  Thee — but — " — Luhe  g,  6i. 

"Lord,  I  will  follow  Thee — but — ."  Then 
he  perceived  the  beauty  of  the  Christ.  He 
acknowledged  His  authority.  He  recognised  His 
duty.  An  impulse  had  been  created  within, 
which,  being  interpreted,  said  unto  him,  "  Follow," 
and  he  now  replied,  "  I  will  follow — but — ."  Let 
us  apprehend  very  clearly  the  stage  at  which  he 
had  arrived.  It  had  come  to  this.  There  was 
the  Lord,  Son  of  Man,  King  of  the  race,  beckoning 
into  discipleship.  Conscience  had  said,  "  Follow 
Him,  for  He  is  thy  supreme  Lord"  The  heart 
had  said,  "  Follow  Him,  for  He  is  the  ideal 
loveliness."  Conscience  and  heart  had  combined 
to  the  creation  of  an  impulse  which  urged  the  life 
to  immediate  decision.  The  impulse  was  aroused 
and  active.     The  imperative  sounded  in  the  very 

III 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

depths  of  his  soul,  "  Follow  Him."  "  I  will 
follow — but — ."  Obedience  to  the  impulse  is 
delayed.  Impulse  is  kept  waiting  while  attention 
is  diverted  elsewhere.  Precedence  must  be  given 
to  another  interest.  "  I  will  follow  Thee,  but 
suffer  me  first  to  go  and  bury"  my  father."  "  At 
thy  peril,  no !"  "  Lord,  I  will  follow  Thee,  but 
suffer  me  first  to  go  and  bid  farewell."  "  At  thy 
peril,  no !  "  Does  that  wear  the  appearance  of 
harshness  ?  Does  it  seem  inconsiderate  and 
severe  ?  The  harshness  is  only  apparent.  It  is 
the  harshness  of  the  man  who  violently  grasps 
another  who  is  drowning.  It  is  the  severity  of 
kindness.     It  is  the  emphasis  of  love. 

Let  us  look  at  it.  What  is  the  essence  of  the 
narrative  ^  The  essence  is  this — that  nothing  must 
be  allowed,  to  take  precedence  over  a  divine  im- 
pulse, that  a  divine  impulse  is  of  royal  and 
imperial  descent,  and  must  ever  be  given  the  first 
rank.  Man's  relationship  to  Christ  is  the  primary 
relationship',  and  to  that  relationship  all  other 
associations  must  bow.  That  is  the  pith  and 
marrow  of  the  story.  My  first  and  immediate 
attention  must  be  given  to  any  impulse  which 
concerns  my  relationship  to  Christ.  Nothing  on 
earth  must  be  permitted  to  thrust  it  into  a  second 
place.  "  Let  me  first  bury  my  father."  "  First,  the 
impulse,"  replied  the  Lord.       "  Let  me  first  bid 

112 


Unfulfilled    Impulse. 

farewell"       "  First  the  impulse !"       "  Seek  ye  first 
the  kingdom." 

Now  why  this  pre-eminence  to  a  divine  impulse  ? 
Christ  had  looked  at  the  two  men,  and  had  gazed 
into  their  souls.  Perhaps  they  had  been  men  of 
the  world,  living  on  the  mere  superficies  of  things, 
absorbed  in  affairs  that  are  belittling  and  transient,  ■! 
and  having  no  large  bracing  intercourse  with  the 
things  of  the  Eternal.  And  now  the  Master  saw 
that  the  divine  spark  was  kindling.  He  saw  that 
a  faint,  fitful  and  trembling  inclination  was 
aspiring  after  a  higher  life.  He  saw  that  the 
men  felt  the  impulse,  and  were  half  inclined  to 
heed,  and  half  inclined  to  seek  postpone- 
ment He  saw  the  precariousness  of  the  heavenly 
babe-life  that  in  the  heart  was  newly  born.  He 
knew  just  how  long  it  would  live  if  it  were  treated 
with  neglect.  He  knew  that  if  attention  were 
denied  until  after  the  father  was  buried,  the 
impulse  also  would  be  dead  and  buried.  He  knew 
that  postponement  meant  destruction,  that  if 
obedience  to  a  good  impulse  be  deferred  until  the 
third  day,  on  the  third  day  there  might  be  no 
impulse  to  obey.  And  so  underneath  the  Master's 
reply  there  runs  this  current  of  awful  warning : 
"  With  thee,  the  postponement  of  a  day  may  mean 
eternal  death ;  the  spark  of  divinity  may  be 
extinguished ;   the  spirit  may  be  quenched ;   and  if 

113  H 


Brooks  by  the   Traveller's  Way. 

thou  seekest  postponement  until  after  the  burial 
of  thy  father's  body,  or  to  bid  thy  friends  farewell, 
the  heavenly  impulse  is  imperilled.  Even  these 
must  not  be  given  pre-eminence,  but  must  be 
sternly  set  aside.  This  is  thy  pre-eminent  concern  : 
First,  the  divine  impulse,  '  Follow  thou  Me.' " 

This  is  Christ's  way  of  emphasising  for  all 
time  the  infinite  and  transcendent  preciousness 
of  a  divine  impulse.  No  life  is  utterly  without 
good  impulse.  No  life  is  consistently  and 
increasingly  bad.  There  are  softer  seasons  among 
the  years,  times  when  the  springs  in  the  life  are 
unsealed,  and  lovely  purposes  come  to  birth.  We 
have  a  beautiful  phrase  by  which  we  describe  the 
gracious  season.  We  speak  of  being  in  a  "  softer 
mood,"  as  though  the  rain  had  fallen,  as  indeed 
it  has,  and  turned  the  hard  unfertile  ground  into 
forcing-beds  of  beauteous  growth.  "  I  v/ill  come 
down  like  rain,"  says  the  gracious  God,  and  like 
rain  He  comes,  creating  these  "  softer  moods "  in 
the  life,  and  causing  it  to  be  fragrant  with 
budding  things  of  the  kingdom.  This  rainy 
season  is  known  to  all. 

Now  we  cannot  tell  in  what  circumstances  the 
rainy  seasons  will  come,  and  the  consequent 
softer  mood.  No  one  can  foretell  the  coming  of 
the  Lord,  or  anticipate  His  ways.  Sometimes  the 
vision  of  infirmity  will  cause  the  rain  to  fall,  and 

114 


Unfulfilled  Impulse. 

soften  the  heart  in  gracious  sympathies.  It  was 
my  lot  only  a  little  while  ago  to  have  daily  inter- 
course with  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life,  over  whose 
body  creeping  paralysis  was  stealing  with  slow 
but  irresistible  tread.  Little  by  little  the  disease 
was  claiming  the  flesh,  but  it  had  no  proprietary 
rights  over  the  spirit,  and  the  cheery  faith  and 
hopefulness  of  his  soul  remained  intact.  He 
crawled  about,  a  minister  of  light.  And  I  have 
seen  a  group  of  men,  watching  him  as  he  crept 
like  light  about  the  grounds,  and  their  voices 
sunk  into  a  whisper  as  one  voiced  the  common 
feeling,  and  said,  "  That  ought  to  make  us  better 
men."  "Yes,"  I  thought,  "the  Lord's  rain  is 
falling  on  this  group.  The  vision  of  infirmity  is 
bringing  the  heavenly  shower,  and  giving  men  a 
softer  mood,  a  spiritual  impulse,  a  more  sensitive 
aspiration  after  a  better  life."  I  wondered  if  the 
physical  paralysis  of  one  is  to  glorify  God  by  the 
spiritual  emancipation  of  many.  Infirmity  created 
a  softer  heavenly  impulse,  which  said,  "  Follow 
Me." 

*~  But  there  are  softening  seasons  other  than  those 
caused  by  the  visions  of  infirmity.  I  have  known 
God's  rain  fall  in  copious  showers  the  morning 
after  a  great  sin.  The  night  before  the  shower  I 
was  hard,  rebellious,  obstinate!  I  shut  the  gates 
of  my  calmer  reason,  and  opened  the  gates  of  fiery 

115 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's    Way. 

passion,  and  I  sinned.  But,  next  morning,  on  to 
the  hard  passion-burnt  heart,  the  gracious  long- 
suffering  Lord  came  down  hke  rain.  He  brought 
me  into  a  softer  mood.  He  re-sensitised  my 
sympathy.  He  created  a  drift  heavenward. 
Reflection  was  the  occasion  of  a  rainy  season, 
giving  birth  to  a  heavenly  impulse,  which  said, 
"Follow  Me." 

Who  does  not  know  that  the  hour  of  bereave- 
ment is  sometimes  the  season  of  the  falling  rain  ? 
Many  a  divine  impulse  has  had  its  birth  by  an 
open  grave.  Here  and  now  I  could  not  pray  that 
God  would  do  away  with  infirmity  and  death.  If 
it  were  in  my  power  now,  by  the  lifting  up  of  my 
hand,  to  rid  this  land  of  infirmity  and  death,  I 
think  I  should  hardly  dare  to  lift  it.  I  know  not 
what  would  become  of  us  if  in  our  present 
condition  there  were  no  more  pain  and  no  more 
death.  Life  would  become  a  mass  of  selfish 
isolations.  We  should  become  hard  as  the  nether 
millstone,  and  the  softer  mood  and  the  heavenly 
impulses  would  be  unknown.  So  God  keeps  it 
possible  for  us  to  grow  into  His  image  by  keeping 
two  dark  angels  in  our  midst,  the  angel  of  pain 
and  the  angel  of  death,  whose  visits  to  our  homes 
keep  us  from  becoming  callous,  and  call  us  from 
the   thraldom   of   the    senses   by    the    creation    of 

ii6 


Unfulfilled   Impulse* 

a    heaven-directing    impulse    which    says    to    us,   « 
"Follow  thou   Me." 

Well,  then,  God  creates  these  softer  moods.  He 
begets  this  impulse  within  us,  this  spiritual 
emotion.  Now  proceed  a  step  further.  What  is 
the  purpose  of  impulse  ?  Let  this  in  the  first 
place  be  said,  impulse  is  not  to  be  a  resting  place.  }(, 
Emotion  is  not  the  goal.  Is  that  altogether  a 
needless  warning  .'*  It  is  possible  to  cultivate  a 
spurious  emotionalism,  a  luxury  of  emotions, 
which  may  come  to  be  regarded  as  the  marrow 
and  essence  of  true  religion.  True  religion  is  not 
merely  the  enjoyment  of  certain  feelings ;  it  is 
the  translation  of  them.  There  is  a  wide 
difference  between  good  impulse  and  good  life, 
and  the  work  of  true  religion  is  to  translate  the 
one  into  the  other.  Yes,  let  me  repeat  that  the 
work  of  the  truly  religious  is  the  work  of  transla- 
tion. I  have  to  take  the  impulse,  given  me  by  God, 
and  translate  it  first  into  resolution  and  then  into 
action.  That  is  religion,  to  take  divine  impulse, 
and,  by  the  process  of  Hving,  translate  it  into 
finished  and  eternal  achievement.  "  Follow  Me," 
must  not  only  be  translated  into  "  I  will  follow 
Thee,"  but  "I  do  follow  Thee."  The  impulse 
must  be  converted  into  a  perfected  act. 

But  now,  suppose  I  don't  translate  this  impulse. 
Suppose  I  just  rest  and  luxuriate  in  the  divine 

117 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's   Way. 

emotion.  What  then  ?  Then  the  impulse  will 
translate  itself,  and  will  become  a  corrupting 
power  in  the  life  it  was  proposed  to  soften  and 
redeem.  Divinely  given  impulse  is  like  the 
divinely  given  manna  of  the  days  of  old ;  if  it  is 
not  immediately  used,  it  will  become  the  nourisher 
of  corruption ;  it  will  "  breed  worms  and  stink." 
The  only  way  to  keep  an  impulse  sweet  is  to 
change  it  into  an  act,  and  it  will  then  remain  a 
sweet  and  gracious  influence  throughout  eternity. 
Let  me  assume,  then,  that  you  have  a  divine 
impulse.  You  have  been  brought  into  a  softer 
mood.  You  feel  the  stirrings  of  the  heavenly 
citizenship.  You  feel  the  hand  of  the  Lord.  You 
are  inclined  to  obey  the  impulse.  I  pray  you,  let 
your  first  inclinations  have  the  leadership.  In  all 
matters  affecting  your  relationship  to  Christ,  your 
first  thoughts  are  ever  the  best.  Second  thoughts 
are  usually  suggestions  of  compromise,  postpone- 
ment and  doubt.  The  first  thought  is  this — "  I 
will  follow  Thee."  The  second  thought  is  this — 
"  I  will  follow  Thee,  but — "  and  thus  there 
creeps  in  perilous  postponement  and  destructive 
doubt.  The  intrusion  of  a  traitorous  compromise 
can  spoil  the  music  of  a  life.  You  know  the  story 
of  the  great  bell  of  Moscow,  the  largest  bell  in  the 
world.  It  was  cast  more  than  two  hundred  years 
ago,  and  has  never  been  raised,  not  because  it  is 

ii8 


Unfulfilled   Impulse. 

too  heavy,  but  because  it  is  cracked.  All  was 
going  well  at  the  foundry,  when  a  fire  broke  out 
in  Moscow.  Streams  of  water  were  dashed  in 
upon  the  houses  and  factories,  and  a  tiny  little 
stream  found  its  way  into  the  bell-metal  at  the 
very  moment  when  it  was  rushing  in  a  state  of 
fusion  into  the  colossal  bell-mould,  and  so  the 
big  bell  came  out  cracked,  and  all  its  capacity  of 
music  was  destroyed.  The  historic  incident  pre- 
sented itself  to  me  as  a  symbol  of  the  thought 
I  am  endeavouring  to  lay  before  you  now.  Here 
is  a  divinely-given  impulse,  like  soft  and  molten 
metal,  just  flowing  into  the  mould  of  my  first 
thought,  and  hardening  into  noble  and  steadfast 
decision.  And  an  insidious  doubt  or  compromise 
is  allowed  to  have  its  way,  and  trickle  in  at  the 
vital  moment  when  impulse  is  just  shaping  into  the 
image  of  the  divine  likeness,  and  all  is  spoilt,  and 
the  bell  of  heavenly  impulse  does  not  ring  out  the 
music  of  a  redeemed  and  sanctified  life. 

It  is  this  intrusion  of  the  compromise  that  works 
such  destruction  in  our  spiritual  life.  Life  would 
abound  in  heavenly  bell-music  if  we  took  every 
divine  impulse  and  offered  it  the  mould  of  a  ready 
and  willing  decision.  "  Teach  me  to  do  Thy 
will."  '^        ^     ^      ^     .^ 

*^  "  Take  my  feet,  and  let  them  be    \ 

Swift  and  beautiful  for  Thee."      ' 

119 


xvu 
Destruction   by   Neglect* 

"  Make  not  provision  for  the  flesh,  to  fulfil  the  lusts 
thereof." — Romans  xiii,  i^. 

"  Make  not  provision  for  the  flesh."  Let  the  evil 
thing  die  of  famine.  Let  the  ungodly  suggestion 
perish  for  sheer  lack  of  food.  Let  the  presump- 
tuous thought  be  destroyed  by  the  withholding  of 
appropriate  support.  Kill  your  spiritual  enemies 
by  starvation.  Make  no  provision  for  them.  This 
appears  to  be  the  principle  advocated  by  the  great 
Apostle  for  the  culture  of  the  spiritual  life.  Our 
enemies  are  to  be  conquered  by  neglect.  It  is  a 
principle  which  prevails  along  purely  material 
planes.  Some  two  or  three  years  ago,  the  Liver- 
pool School  of  Tropical  Science  sent  out  a  body 
of  qualified  experts  to  investigate  the  causes  of 
the  malarial  fever  which  works  immeasurable  havoc 
in  the   lives  of  multitudes  of  our  fellow  citizens 

1 20 


Destruction   by    Neglect. 

throughout  the  Empire.  The  investigations  have 
resulted  in  the  discovery  of  the  malarial  microbe, 
which  is  the  germ  of  this  awful  and  widespread 
destruction.  A  further  discovery  has  been  made 
of  the  nutriment  by  which  the  microbe  is  sustained, 
and  now  our  scientists  are  seeking  to  discover  the 
means  by  which  the  microbe  and  its  sustenance 
may  be  divorced.  Can  we  separate  it  from  its 
nutriment  ?  Can  we  isolate  it  from  its  means  of 
maintenance  ?  That  is  the  problem,  and  there  is 
every  prospect  of  its  being  satisfactorily  solved. 
Our  experts  propose  fighting  the  malarial  microbe 
by  surrounding  it  with  conditions  of  famine. 

It  is  even  so  in  the  realm  of  the  spirit.  When 
the  microbes  of  evil  appear  in  the  life,  little  baby 
germs,  infantile  suggestions  of  revolt,  weaklings 
of  unclean  desire,  the  effective  method  of  destroy- 
ing them  is  by  deliberate  and  studious  neglect. 
We  are  to  annihilate  them  by  refusing  proper 
maintenance.  We  are  to  see  to  it,  that  there  is 
no  food  about  the  life  on  which  they  can  thrive. 
We  are  to  make  no  provision  for  them. 

Now  there  is  no  method  more  absolutely  efficient 
and  assured  in  its  working  than  the  method  of 
destruction  by  neglect.  "  Where  no  wood  is, 
there  the  fire  goeth  out."  Deny  the  fuel,  you 
exhaust  the  flame.  If  the  enemy  in  the  spirit 
hunger,   starve   him.       If   we   surround   him  with 

121 


Brooks    by    the   Traveller's  Way* 

plentiful  food,  if  he  finds  rich  provision  for  the 
maintenance,  he  will  speedily  become  full  grown 
and  tyrannical ;  but  if  we  starve  him,  he  will  never 
be  "  fulfilled,"  he  will  pass  away  of  sheer 
exhaustion. 

I  want  to  give  this  apostolic  word  "  flesh "  the 
apostolic  content.  We  perilously  impoverish  its 
significance  if  we  limit  its  comprehensions  to  the 
rise  and  sovereignty  of  carnal  desire.  It  embraces 
dispositions  and  tendencies  which  appear  to  have 
no  immediate  relationship  with  carnality.  The 
Apostle  has  broken  up  the  surface  of  the  word, 
and  enabled  us  to  see  its  varied  and  manifold 
significance.  He  has  proclaimed  that,  in  his 
conception  of  the  term,  there  are  involved  such 
presences  as  "  wrath,"  "  strife,"  "  sedition," 
"  drunkenness,"  "  uncleanness."  But  whichever 
of  these  manifold  guises  the  flesh  may  assume,  the 
Apostolic  method  works  a  sure  destruction.  We 
are  to  slay  them  by  withholding  congenial  food. 
Let  us  apply  the  principle  to  two  or  three  of  the 
enemies  which  besiege  the  souls  of  men. 

L     **  Wrath/* 

How  shall  I  deal  with  unholy  anger,  with 
anger  whose  only  influence  is  self  -  destruction  ? 
How  shall  I  contend  with  passion  that  boils 
over    and    scalds   and    destroys    the    sensitiveness 

122 


Destruction  by   Neglect* 

of  my  spirit  ?  The  way  to  destroy  it  is  to 
"  make  no  provision  for  it."  It  must  find  no  food 
on  which  to  grow  strong.  It  must  find  no  fuel 
with  which  to  feed  its  flame.  Now  the  nutriment 
of  wrath  is  thought.  There  can  be  no  anger 
if  there  be  no  thought.  Thought  is  the  fuel  by 
which  the  fire  is  fed.  We  recognise  this  in  our 
everyday  speech.  Here  is  a  man  who  is  under 
the  impression  that  he  has  been  contemptuously 
treated  by  his  fellow.  His  feelings  are  worked 
into  a  passion,  and  his  speech  becomes  violent  and 
threatening.  What  counsel  do  we  give  him .? 
We  say  to  him,  "  Don't  think  about  it "  ;  that  is 
to  say,  we  counsel  him  to  withdraw  his  thought, 
and  to  occupy  it  with  other  things.  We  assume 
that  if  the  thought  be  withheld,  the  passion  will 
subside.  To  take  away  the  food  will  emasculate  X 
the  wrath.  It  is  when  we  "  dwell  upon  a  thing  " 
that  our  feelings  are  aroused.  "  As  I  mused  the 
fire  burned."  It  is  a  most  vital  principle  in 
common  life.  We  can  control  our  passion  by  \ 
wisely  directing  our  thought.  Make  no  provision 
by  thinking,  and  anger  will  languish  and  die. 

IL    **  Strife/* 

This  is  another  of  the  carnal  enemies  de- 
scribed by  the  Apostle  Paul.  "  Whereas  there 
is     strife     among    you,     are     ye     not     carnal  ? " 

123 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's   Way* 

Strife  is  the  opposite  of  a  fruitful  and  blessed 
peace.  Now  the  germ  of  strife  is  usually  found 
I  in  a  tiny  misunderstanding.  The  misunderstanding 
I  in  its  earliest  stages  may  be  small  and  puny,  but 
we  may  make  provision  for  it  until  it  grows  into 
fierce  and  violent  strife.  There  are  two  correlative 
ways  in  which  strife  is  engendered  and  matured. 

(i)  Vv^e  may  make  provision  for  strife  by 
indiscreet  conversation.  To  gossip  about  a  mis- 
understanding will  almost  surely  aggravate  it. 
Misunderstandings  grow  by  being  talked  about  to 
others.  To  make  them  the  topic  of  idle  speech 
is  to  inflame  and  exaggerate  them.  It  is  a  very 
device  of  the  evil  one  that  when  we  talk  about  a 
supposed  injury,  it  assumes  colossal  proportions. 
The  way  to  deal  with  a  misunderstanding  is  to 
make  no  provision  for  it.  Don't  let  us  provide  the 
food  by  which  it  nourishes  itself  into  appalling 
bulk.  If  we  talk  about  it  at  all,  let  it  be  in  frank 
and  sanctified  speech  with  the  one  in  whom  the 
misunderstanding  has  occurred.  Such  conversa- 
tion provides  no  food  for  evil  germs.  It  rather 
checks  their  growth  and  causes  them  to  perish. 

(2)  We  may  make  provision  for  strife  by 
indiscreet  hearing.  It  is  not  only  the  speaker  but 
the  listener  who  may  be  making  provision  for  the 
flesh.  We  may  nurse  the  spirit  of  strife  by  being 
unwise  and  receptive  hearers.      There  would  be 

124 


Destruction   by   Neglect. 

no  talkers  if  there  were  no  listeners.  It  is  not 
unsuggestive  that  the  same  Lord  who  warned  us 
against  speaking  idle  words  also  uttered  this 
equally  fruitful  warning,  "  Take  heed  what  ye 
hear  " ;  "  take  heed  how  ye  hear."  We  are  to  be 
on  our  guard,  lest  by  our  receptive  hearing  we 
help  a  man  to  feed  the  ugly  spirit  of  strife.  Let 
us  make  no  provision  for  it,  and  let  us  close  our 
ears  when  deliberate  deafness  will  help  to 
annihilate  evil. 

IIL     *^Envyings/* 

This  is  another  of  the  off  -  springs  of  the 
flesh  characterised  by  the  Apostle  Paul.  It 
suggests  an  ill  relationship  to  another  which, 
if  nourished,  will  grow  into  ill  -  will,  and  mani- 
fest itself  in  positive  attempts  at  injury  Let 
me  give  two  or  three  familiar  examples  of  its 
work.  A  young  girl  in  a  business  house  is 
very  popular  m  her  circle.  She  has  many 
attractions,  many  gifts,  and  much  personal  charm. 
She  is  admired  and  sought  after,  and  lives  in  the 
light  of  ceaseless  favour.  Another  girl  in  the  same 
house  enjoys  no  such  popularity,  and  is  little 
sought  and  not  conspicuously  admired.  What 
space  there  may  be  here  for  the  growth  of  envy, 
and  if  suitable  provision  is  made,  how  speedily 
envy     will     mature     into     ill-will     and     grievous 

125 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's   Way, 

attempts  to  injure !  A  business  man,  by  honour- 
able means,  passes  from  success  to  success.  He 
appears  to  take  leaps  and  bounds  in  the  highway 
of  prosperity.  Another  man  only  crawls,  and 
large  success  never  comes  within  his  grasp.  How 
tempted  he  is  to  think  ill  of  the  successful  man, 
and  to  speak  ill,  and  maybe  to  do  ill !  A 
missioner  comes  to  conduct  special  evangelistic 
services  in  a  town.  There  is  nothing  con- 
spicuously great  about  his  addresses.  There  is 
nothing  extraordinary  in  his  matter  or  manner ; 
indeed  he  appears  to  be  rather  commonplace,  and 
yet  men  and  women  are  drawn  into  the  Kingdom  in 
crowds.  And  here  is  another  minister  of  greater 
culture  and  apparently  wealthier  gifts,  preaching 
the  same  Gospel,  depending  upon  the  same  Lord, 
and  yet  only  now  and  again  has  he  the  joy  of 
drawing  men  and  women  into  decided  surrender 
to  God.  What  an  occasion  there  may  be  for  the 
rising  of  envy !  If  we  provide  appropriate  food 
how  speedily  envy  may  grow  into  unkindly 
criticism  and  disparagement,  which  will  even  throw 
aspersions  upon  the  character  of  the  missioner  him- 
self. Have  any  of  us  felt  the  birth  of  these  baby- 
devils  within  us  ?  Let  us  make  no  provision  for 
them.  If  the  ugly  thing  has  just  shown  its  head, 
let  us  kill  it  by  starvation.  And  how  shall  we  do 
it .?     By  withdrawing  the  thought  on  which  it  feeds, 

126 


Destruction   by   Neglect. 

and  providing  another  kind  of  thought  which  will 
be  as  poison.  There  is  only  one  way  of  doing  it. 
We  must  pray  for  those  we  envy.  We  must  tell 
God  all  about  it,  and  in  these  conditions  the  evil 
thing  will  languish  away  and  die.  We  must  look 
at  the  enviable  one  in  our  Master's  presence,  and 
he  will  become  to  us  the  lovable  one.  Envy  is 
asphyxiated  in  the  atmosphere  of  prayer.  In 
prayer  is  no  provision  for  the  flesh. 

So  one  might  travel  the  entire  round  of  the 
fleshly  symptoms  described  by  the  Apostle,  and  to 
every  species  we  might  have  applied  the  apostolic 
counsel.  Let  us  learn  this  method  of  spiritual 
culture,  the  method  of  killing  our  enemies  by 
neglect.  The  counsel  emerges  conspicuously  in 
almost  every  book  of  the  Bible.  "  Avoid  it ;  pass 
not  by  it ;  turn  from  it  and  pass  away."  That 
is  only  the  Old  Testament  setting  of  our  New 
Testament  injunction.  Treat  a  thing  with  neglect 
and  it  will  pine  away  and  die.  "  Set  your  mind 
on  things  above,"  and  the  things  below,  the  enemy 
that  comes  from  beneath,  will  find  no  provision  in 
our  lives.  He  will  find  his  cupboard  empty,  and 
he  will  sink  away  to  faint  and  die. 


127 


XVIU 

Desiring  and   Seeking* 

"  One  thing  I  have  desired  of  the  Lord,  that  will  I  seek 
after ;  that  I  may  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  all  the 
days  of  my  life,  to  behold  the  beauty  of  the  Lord,  and  to 
enquire  in  His  temple.  For  in  the  time  of  trouble  He 
shall  hide  me  in  His  pavilion  ;  in  the  secret  of  His  taber- 
nacle shall  He  hide  me  ;  He  shair  set  me  up  upon  a  rock. 
And  now  shall  mine  head  be  lifted  up  above  mine  enemies 
round  about  me." — Psalm  xxvii,  ^ — 6. 

It  is  always  a  great  privilege  to  be  permitted  to 
overhear  the  prayers  of  a  saint.  It  is  greatly  help- 
ful to  be  allowed  to  know  the  kind  of  vision  which 
occupies  the  mind  of  a  saint  when  he  is  upon  his 
knees.  What  is  the  burden  of  his  supplications } 
What  is  the  character  of  his  largest  hopes  ?  What 
is  the  hope  of  his  aspirations  ?  Perhaps  it  is  by  no 
means  the  smallest  of  our  obligations  to  the 
Apostle  Paul  that  we  are  so  frequently  permitted 
to  hear  him  at  prayer.       Again  and  again  in  his 

128 


Desiring   and   Seeking. 

epistles  he  breaks  out  into  supplications,  and  we 
enjoy  the  privilege  of  gazing-  upon  the  wonderful 
spiritual  prospect  which  his  own  soul  contemplates 
and  covets.  And  here  in  the  psalm  which  we 
are  meditating  to-night,  the  veil  is  lifted,  and  we 
overhear  the  prayer  of  a  saint  of  old.  What  is 
the  nature  of  the  prayer.?  What  is  the  goal 
which  offered  the  greatest  allurement.?  "One 
thing  have  I  desired  of  the  Lord;  that  will  I 
seek  after."  What  is  this  thing  which  formed  the 
all-attractive  goal  of  his   devotional   life.? 

L    The  Character  of  the   Quest* 

''That  I  7nay  dwell  in  the  House  of  the  Lord  all 
the  days  of  my  life!'     He  prays  that  his  life  may 
be  spent  in  a  sanctuary.     The  ideal  life  is  to  him 
the  life  of  ceaseless  worship.     In  the  perfected  life 
the   soul  is  always   upon   its  knees.       The   saint 
"  dwells  in  the  House  of  the  Lord  all  the  days  of 
his  life."     There  are  no  interregnums.     Life  is  not 
broken  up  into  hours  spent  in  the  House  of  the 
Lord,  and  days  spent  away  from  it.     The  whole 
life   is   pervaded   by   the   atmosphere   of   worship. 
Now  when  we  usually  speak  of  the  devotional  life, 
we  describe  a  mere  patch  of  our  days,  a  little  fringe, 
or  a  thin  thread  in  a  wide,  barren  waste.     We  think 
of  the  early  moments  of  the  day,  or  of  its  later 

129  I 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's   Way. 

moments,  and  these  we  regard  as  constituting  the 
\  devotional  season.  But  here  is  a  man  whose 
aspiration  is  not  for  a  partial  sanctification,  but  for 
a  life  entirely  devotional.  He  yearns  to  spend  all 
the  days  in  the  House  of  the  Lord.  He  never 
wishes  to  be  away  from  the  atmosphere  of  worship. 
He  desires  never  to  lose  the  attitude  of  the  sup- 
pHant  When  the  body  rises  from  its  knees,  he 
wants  the  soul  to  continue  in  prayer.  He  longs  to 
"  pray  without  ceasing." 

We  commonly  speak  of  the  religious  and  the 
secular,  as  though  they  were  two  quantities  that 
might  run  along  in  parallel  lines  without  flowing 
into  intimate  combination.  The  distinction  is 
perilous  and  illegitimate.  We  can  no  more 
separate  the  religious  and  the  secular,  and  pre- 
serve their  life,  than  we  can  preserve  the  life 
of  flesh  which  is  divorced  from  blood.  We 
cannot  isolate  flesh  and  blood  and  sustain  vitality. 
The  condition  of  the  life  of  each  is  the  union  of 
both.  Rehgion  without  the  secular  is  a  wasted 
\  and  ineffectual  breath ;  the  secular  without 
religion  is  a  dead  and  inert  form.  And  so  the 
distinction  between  secular  music  and  sacred 
music,  between  secular  books  and  religious  books, 
between  secular  callings  and  sacred  callings,  ii 
fraught  with  tremendous  peril,  and  is  usually  the 
prelude  to  spiritual  death.     The  psalmist  wanted 

130 


Desiring   and   Seeking. 

no  such  divisions  in  his  hfe.  '  He  wanted  all  the 
days,  and  every  moment  of  the  days,  to  be  spent 
as  in  the  House  of  the  Lord.  He  never  wished  to 
go  from  beneath  its  gracious  roof.  He  wanted  life 
to  be  a  temple.  If  he  were  in  the  market-place, 
or  in  the  ways  of  the  crowded  city,  or  threading  a 
sheep-track  on  the  lonely  moor,  he  wanted  to  have 
the  unbroken  consciousness  that  he  was  in  the 
Temple  of  God.  He  wanted  the  humblest  toil  to 
be  as  sanctified  as  sacrificial  service.  He  longed 
that  his  soul  might  be  at  prayers  in  his  labour,  in 
his  pleasures,  in  his  social  intercourse,  in  his 
burden-bearing,  and  through  all  the  varied 
experiences  of  the  complex  day.  He  prayed  that 
he  might  not  be  a  mere  sojourner  in  the  house  of 
worship,  but  that  the  incense  of  devotion  might 
rise  continuously  from  his  reverent  and  aspiring 
soul.  * 

''To  behold  the  beauty  of  the  Lord!'  That  is 
the  second  of  the  great  emphases  of  the  psalmist's 
prayer.  He  yearned  for  a  life  that  is  inspired 
by  contemplation  of  the  divine  beauty.  Is  it 
altogether  irrelevant  to  say  that  nowadays  we  give 
ourselves  very  little  time  to  "  behold "  anything  ? 
Is  not  seeing  becoming  a  lost  art.^  We  go  too 
much  at  the  gallop,  and  quiet,  fruitful  seeing 
is  not  consistent  with  the  racing  and  hurrying 
life.      We  have  almost  coined  a  word  which  has 

131 


Brooks  by  the   Traveller's  Way, 

supplanted  the  old  word  "  see,"  and  is  perhaps 
expressive  of  our  modern  ways.  We  speak  of 
"  doing "  a  place.  We  walk  round  the  National 
Gallery,  and  we  have  "  done "  it.  But  in  the 
doing  there  is  no  seeing ;  in  the  going  there  is  no 
quest.  A  mere  glance  appropriates  nothing ;  a 
long  gaze  appropriates  the  beauty  it  beholds.  It 
is  only  when  we  behold  with  quiet,  steady,  per- 
sistent contemplation  that  we  pierce  beneath  the 
surface  of  things,  and  possess  the  hidden  wealth. 
I  do  not  wonder  that  another  psalmist  proclaims 
this  most  natural  sequence: — "When  I  meditate 
on  Thee  in  the  night  watches  .  .  .  my  soul 
shall  be  satisfied  as  with  marrow  and  fatness." 
That  is  not  an  arbitrary  connection ;  it  is  the 
natural  fruit.  Meditation  appropriates  the  very 
marrow  of  things.  We  only  lay  hold  of  rich, 
satisfying  sustenance  when  we  practise  the  habit 
of  meditation.  If  we  wish  to  taste  the  exquisite 
sweetness  of  life's  essences,  we  must  move  in  the 
spirit  of  more  deliberate  meditation.  "  My 
meditation  of  Him  shall  be  sweet."  If  we  want 
to  know  the  rich  beauty  of  God,  we  must  give 
ourselves  time  to  think  about  it.  It  is  well  to  take 
some  single  word  spoken  by  the  Master,  or  some 
one  incident  of  His  life,  and  dwell  upon  it  until 
we  have  beheld  its  glory,  and,  by  the  beholding, 
have  ourselves  become  glorified.      As  the  beauty 

132 


Desiring:   and   Seeking. 

dawns  upon  our  vision  it  will  inspire  the  heart  into 
more  fervent  quest.  Let  us  gaze  upon  the  Lord 
until  the  wondrous  allurement  wooes  us  into  ever 
deeper  and  richer  union. 

''And  to  enquire  in  His  Temple!'  He  wants 
to  seek  his  knowledge  in  the  spirit  of  devotion. 
Where  will  he  make  his  enquiries  ?  "  In  His 
Temple."  That  is  the  place  in  which  all  enquiries 
should  be  made.  All  investigations  should  com- 
mence and  be  continued  on  one's  knees.  The 
solution  of  pressing  problems  must  be  sought 
in  the  mood  of  prayer.  We  are  just  here  at  the 
root  of  many  of  our  errors.  We  do  not  ask  our 
questions  in  His  Temple.  We  ask  them  elsewhere, 
and  in  an  alien  spirit.  We  ask  our  questions 
defiantly.  Grief  overshadows  us,  and  we  raise  our 
questions  in  stiff  rebellion.  Adversity  comes,  and 
we  project  our  enquiries  in  bitterness.  The  heahng 
answer  is  frequently  withheld  because  we  have 
asked  amiss.  We  must  ask  our  questions  in 
reverence.  We  must  kneel  if  we  want  to  enquire. 
We  must  not  give  up  worship  when  we  are  face  to 
face  with  a  hard  difficulty.  Let  us  seek  the  clue 
in  the  Temple.  "  Take  it  to  the  Lord  in  prayer." 
There  are  many  things  which  feel  overwhelming 
when  we  ask  them  in  a  spirit  of  revolt ;  they 
become  tolerable  when  we  ask  them  in  the  mood 
of  p  ayer.     "  When  I  sought  to  know  this,  it  was 

133 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

too  painful  until  I  went  into  the  sanctuary  of  God ; 
then    understood    I."       We    get    the    clue    which 
makes  the  burden  light  when  we  bow  in  reverent 
prayer  and  praise. 

"  Sometimes  a  light  surprises 
The  Christian  while  he  sings." 

IL    The  Fruits  of  the   Quest. 

What  would  be  the  issues  of  such  a  life  ?  The 
psalmist  yearns  for  a  life  in  which  the  spirit  of 
worship  is  unceasing,  and  in  which  the  divine 
beauty  is  intimately  contemplated,  and  in  which 
all  investigation  shall  be  made  in  the  spirit  of 
reverent  supplication.  What  will  be  the  fruits  of 
such  a  quest  ? 

I,  Restfulness.  "  In  the  time  of  trouble  He 
shall  hide  me  in  His  pavilion ;  in  the  secret  of 
His  tabernacle  shall  He  hide  me."  There  shall 
be  quietness  at  the  heart  of  things.  There  shall 
be  a  centre  of  rest,  even  though  there  be  a 
circumference  of  trouble.  The  life  shall  be  kept 
calm,  and  free  from  panic,  as  in  a  secret  place. 
When  the  foes  are  many  and  threatening,  there 
shall  be  a  place  of  rest,  even  in  their  midst. 
When  the  enemy  shows  his  teeth,  and  I  can 
almost  feel  his  hot  breath,  there  shall  still  be  a 
hiding-place   of  rest.       "  Thou   preparest   a   table 

134 


Desiring   and   Seeking. 

before  me  in  the  presence  of  mine  enemies."  That 
is  a  wonderful  promise,  and  it  is  daily  fulfilled.  I 
have  seen  a  widow  sit  down  quietly  and  trustfully 
at  the  Lord's  feast  when  the  grim  enemy  death  is 
in  the  house.  The  life  that  is  spent  in  intimate 
fellowship  with  God  is  never  bereft  of  a  pavilion 
of  peace.  "  Peace,  perfect  peace,  with  sorrows 
surging  round." 

2.  Security.  "  He  shall  set  me  up  upon  a 
rock."  He  will  give  me  the  sense  of  the  firm- 
rootedness  of  the  good.  He  will  inspire  my 
consciousness  with  the  faith  that  everything  is  not 
loose,  and  sHppery,  and  uncertain.  There  is 
something  firm  and  dependable.  There  is  a  rock. 
"  The  Lord  is  my  rock."  The  man  becomes  sure 
of  God,  and  in  that  assurance  his  security  is 
complete. 

3.  Elevation.  "  Now  shall  mine  head  be  lifted 
up  above  mine  enemies  round  about  me."  The 
foes  that  conquer  shall  themselves  be  conquered. 
The  enemy  that  ruled  shall  become  a  subject. 
The  things  that  troubled  him  shall  now  be 
beneath  his  feet.  It  is  salvation  by  elevation. 
"  Thou  shalt  tread  upon  the  lion  and  the  adder ; 
the  young  lion  and  the  dragon  shalt  thou  trample 
under  feet."  I  shall  be  above  my  old  worries,  my 
old  irritations,  my  old  temptations.     The  Lord  lifts 

135 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's  Way. 

us  above  our  enemies,  and  makes  us  more  than 
conquerors. 

There  are  just  two  other  words  in  the  passage 
which  I  desire  to  emphasise.  This  kind  of  hfe 
was  not  only  "  desired  "  by  the  psalmist ;  it  was 
"sought  after."  "That  will  I  seek  after."  His 
prayer  determined  his  pursuit.  That  is  the  order 
in  all  fruitful  religion.  A  man's  practical  search 
must  follow  the  vision  of  his  supplications.  It  is 
not  a  mere  coincidence  that  our  Master  has  linked 
together  the  two  words  "  ask  "  and  "  seek."  We 
must  find  our  purpose  in  our  prayers.  We  must 
shape  our  ambitions  out  of  our  aspirations.  We 
must  turn  our  suppHcations  into  duties,  and  let  our 
prayers  determine  the  trend  and  intensity  of  our 
search. 


136 


xviii* 


The  Forces  of  the  Kingdom^ 

*'  Except  a  man  be  born  ag^ain  he  cannot  see  the 
King^dom  of  God." — -John  Hi,  j. 

"  We  know  that  Thou  art  a  teacher  come  from 
God."  How  did  he  know  ?  There  is  a  dogmatism 
and  a  finahty  about  the  assertion  which  arouses 
our  inquisitiveness.  The  statement  is  made  in 
the  tone  of  one  who  is  famihar  with  heavenly 
things.  "  We  know  that  Thou  art  come  from 
God."  About  Thee  there  are  all  the  signs  of  the 
heavenly-born.  What  were  the  signs  he  marked  ? 
How  did  this  ruler  of  the  Jews  know  that  Jesus 
came  from  God  .^  "  No  man  can  do  these  miracles 
that  Thou  doest,  except  God  be  with  him." 
"  These  miracles  that  Thou  doest."  These  were 
the  signs  that  determined  the  ruler's  judgment ; 
these  were  the  hall-marks  which  testified  that  Jesus 
belonged  to  the  prophetic  order,  and  had  intimate 

137 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

relationship  with  God.  Is  that  the  criterion  ?  Is 
that  the  standard  of  judgment  ?  There  is  no 
reference  to  character,  no  reference  to  beauty  and 
sanctity  of  Hfe,  no  reference  to  personal  motive 
and  ambition.  These  are  all  signs  without  signifi- 
cance, symptoms  that  to  Nicodemus  suggest  no 
eternal  import.  These  "  miracles  that  Thou  doest  " 
are  the  unquestionable  evidences  that  a  man  is  in 
league  with  the  heavenly  forces,  and  is  a  favoured 
son  of  the  Eternal  God.  "  When  we  see  the 
miracle,"  says  Nicodemus,  "  we  know  its  signifi- 
cance, and  know  how  to  interpret  the  man." 

Now  look  at  that  position.  By  this  one  individual 
we  may  be  able  to  interpret  his  race.  Here  is  a 
light  which  illumines  for  us  the  thought  and 
expectation  of  a  people.  The  Hebrew  people  were 
looking  for  a  kingdom,  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Their  eyes  were  gazing  wistfully  for  signs  of  its 
advent.  They  said  that  when  it  came  they  would 
see  it,  and  know  it  by  its  extraordinary  display 
of  miraculous  power.  That  was  to  be  the  sign 
of  its  presence.  There  would  be  a  manifestation 
which  would  fascinate  all  eyes  and  determine  all 
judgments,  and  all  men  should  see  it  together. 

Here,  then,  was  the  attitude  of  the  Hebrew  race. 
"  Let  us  wait  for  the  kingdom.  Let  us  watch 
for  the  miraculous,  that  we  may  know  the  advent 
of  the  Kingdom.     Let  us  keep  our  eyes  alert  that 

138 


The  Forces   of   the   Kingdom. 

we  may  see  these  forces  of  the  Kingdom  when  they 
appear."  That  was  the  attitude  of  the  race,  an 
attitude  shared  by  Nicodemus,  a  ruler  of  the  race. 
He  has  been  upon  his  watch-tower,  a  sentinel, 
scanning  the  horizon,  looking  for  the  Kingdom,  and 
the  miraculous  burst  upon  his  vision  in  the  doings 
of  a  lowly  Nazarene.  He  saw  a  miracle,  and  it 
interpreted  itself  to  him  as  a  sign  of  the  Kingdom. 
Tremblingly  he  buried  the  secret  in  his  soul,  and 
carried  it  in  the  hush  of  night  to  the  wonder 
worker  himself.  "  Rabbi,  we  know  .  .  .  for 
we  have  seen!'  "  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  thee, 
except  a  man  be  born  again  he  cannot  see  the 
Kingdom  of  God."  To  see  a  miracle  is  not  to 
see  the  Kingdom.  Thou  speakest  as  though  thou 
wert  altogether  intimate  with  the  Kingdom,  as 
though  thou  didst  understand  its  characteristics, 
and  knew  its  tendencies,  and  wert  familiar  with  its 
forces  and  recognised  its  life.  Thou  sayest,  "  We 
know,  for  we  have  seen!'  The  Kingdom  is  not  in 
the  region  of  the  visible  and  temporal.  It  lies  back 
iri_  the  Unseen  and  the  Eternal.  Its  nature  is  , 
known  only  to  its  natives.  Its  conditions  are  known  | 
only  to  the  initiated.  Its  forces  are  mystic  and  ] 
mysterious.  "  Except  a  man  be  born  again  he 
can  have  no  knowledge  of  the  Kingdom ;  he  has 
no  faculty  of  vision  or  apprehension,  he  cannot  see 
the  Kingdom  of  God." 

139 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

Now,  if  that  be  so,  what  is  the  work  of  the 
unregenerate  judgment  when  it  expresses  itself 
concerning  the  Kingdom  of  God  ?  What  is  the 
value  of  the  "  we  know  "  of  the  unborn  ?  The 
Master  declares  that  the  unregenerate  are  stamped 
by  inability  to  apprehend  and  appreciate  the 
forces  of  the  Kingdom.  What  authority,  then,  I 
ask,  shall  we  place  upon  their  judgment  ?  The 
man  born  blind  is  no  authority  in  the  discernment 
of  exquisite  colours.  The  man  born  deaf  is  no 
authority  in  the  discrimination  of  melodious 
sounds.  The  man  born  without  a  palate  is  no 
authority  in  matters  which  demand  the  exercised 
powers  of  an  epicure.  To  receive  sensations  you 
require  a  sense.  The  forces  that  create  light 
demand  an  eye.  The  forces  that  create  sound 
demand  an  ear.  The  forces  that  operate  in  the 
Kingdom  of  God  demand  a  regenerated  soul. 
Except  a  man  have  eyes  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom 
of  colour.  Except  a  man  have  ears  he  cannot 
apprehend  the  kingdom  of  sound.  Except  a  man 
be  born  again  he  cannot  see  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

Now,  can  that  declaration  be  submitted  to  the 
test  of  practical  experience  ?  What  is  the 
declaration  ?  The  declaration  is  this,  that  in  the 
regenerate  life  forces  operate  and  conditions 
prevail  which  are  absolutely  beyond  the  appre- 
hension of  the  unregenerate,  and   that  when  the 

140 


The  Forces  of  the  Kingdom. 

unregenerate  express  judgments  about  the 
regenerated  life  they  are  speaking  about  a 
Kingdom  of  which,  by  necessity,  they  are 
absolutely  ignorant  Is  that  confirmed  by  com- 
mon life  ?  Can  the  unregenerate  in  a  congrega- 
tion form  any  conception  of  the  hallowing  ministry, 
the  gracious  heavenly  forces  which  are  now  at 
work  in  the  lives  of  the  re-born?  Can  they  see 
that  Kingdom,  with  a  vision  which  includes  vivid 
and  sympathetic  apprehension  ?  The  Apostle 
Paul,  a  man  of  no  slight  intellectual  eminence, 
well  disciplined  in  faculty  and  broad  in  culture, 
emphasised  and  re-emphasised  this  inability  of 
the  unregenerate  man  to  perceive  the  Kingdom 
of  God.  "  Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard, 
neither  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to 
conceive  the  things  which  God  hath  prepared." 
"  Eye  hath  not  seen " — art-culture  or  nature 
worship,  assiduous  discipleship  in  the  school  of 
the  beautiful,  the  adoration  of  the  lovely  in  field 
and  sea  and  sky  will  not  endow  a  man  with  the 
perceptiveness  for  apprehending  and  appreciating 
the  things  of  the  Kingdom  of  God.  "  Ear  hath 
not  heard  " — no  passion  for  music,  no  listening  to 
the  musical  speech  of  the  philosopher  as  he  teaches 
in  the  grove  will  endow  a  man  with  aptitude  and 
power  to  reahse  the  things  prepared  in  the  King- 
dom of  God.       "  Neither  hath  it  entered  into  the 

141 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

heart  of  man  to  conceive " — the  unregenerate 
cannot  by  any  power  of  the  imagination  conceive 
the  condition  of  the  regenerate  ;  poetry  will  tire  of 
wing,  and  fall  back  baffled  in  the  attempt.  "  It 
hath  not  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive." 
Mere  poetic  sensibility  is  devoid  of  the  higher 
sympathy  which  can  perceive  the  things  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God.  The  study  of  the  beautiful  in 
art,  and  music,  and  poetry,  through  eye  and  ear 
and  heart,  can  never  win  the  secret  of  the  Lord. 
They  leave  all  undiscovered  the  deeper  mysteries 
of  the  Spirit ;  they  leave  a  world  unknown,  for 
"  except  a  man  be  born  again  he  cannot  see  the 
Kingdom  of  God." 

Let  me  give  one  or  two  examples  of  forces 
at  work  in  the  regenerate  life  of  which  the 
unregenerate  cannot  conceive.  Let  me  give  one 
or  two  suggestions  of  a  kingdom  which  they 
cannot  see.  In  the  Kingdom  of  God  there  are 
what  I  will  call  liberating  forces  at  work,  of  which 
it  is  quite  impossible  for  the  unredeemed  to  con- 
cieve.  You  cannot  be  in  the  Kingdom  and  not 
experience  their  power.  You  cannot  be  outside 
the  Kingdom  and  understand  their  power.  They 
may  be  at  work,  operating  upon  the  life  of  the 
one  who  is  sitting  near  to  you  in  the  House  of 
God,  and  if  you  be  outside  the  Kingdom  the  life 

142 


The  Forces  of  the  Kingdom. 

of  your  neighbour  is  to  you  an  entirely  unknown 
and  unthinkable  world. 

What  are  these  liberating  forces  of  the  Kingdom, 
circulating  like  healthful  winds  among  all  its 
members  ?  Here  is  a  member  of  the  Kingdom. 
Listen  to  a  snatch  from  his  daily  song,  "  He 
brought  me  up  out  of  a  horrible  pit,  out  of  the 
miry  clay,  and  set  my  feet  upon  a  rock."  Do  we 
all  know  the  meaning  of  that  song  ?  How  much 
of  it  do  we  understand  ?  We  all  know  the  horrible 
pit ;  we  all  know  the  miry  clay.  Thus  far  our 
experience  has  been  common,  and  we  speak  in 
familiar  terms.  But  do  we  all  know  the  meaning 
of  the  rock?  Do  we  all  realise  what  the  force  has 
been  that  laid  hold  of  the  man,  like  a  strong  hand, 
and  lifted  him  out  of  pit  and  clay  into  the  welcome 
light  and  set  his  feet  upon  a  rock }  Can  we 
form  any  conception  of  that }  He  was  in  the  pit, 
and  he  walked  in  darkness,  and  the  darkness  was 
blinding  his  eyes,  and  he  saw  and  heard  nothing 
ahead  but  the  threats  and  portents  of  judgment 
And  then  God's  Kingdom  came,  and  the  sweet, 
strong  angel-forces  of  the  Kingdom  befriended 
him,  and  threw  their  influences  round  about  him 
in  glorious  and  redeeming  might.  And  now, 
when  I  call  to  Him  and  say,  "  Dweller  in  the 
horrible  pit,  how  fares  it  with  thee  now.?"  there 
comes  back  the  glad  response,  "  No  more  night ; 

143 


Brooks  by  the   Traveller's  Way* 

••  guilt  and  fear  have  fled  away  like  great  black 
birds  of  the  darkness,  never  more  to  return." 
That  is  the  inner  life  of  the  Kingdom.  Can  we 
;  all  understand  it  ?  Can  we  all  see  it  with  a  per- 
ception that  is  richest  realisation  ?  The  man 
walked  in  the  miry  clay.  He  was  sunk  deep  in 
#  unclean  habit.  Life  had  become  a  captivity  of 
defilement.  He  was  stuck  fast  in  exhausting  and 
paralysing  sin.  Then  God's  Kingdom  came,  and 
the  power  that  works  mightily  worked  round 
about  the  captive  of  sin.  And  now,  when  I  call 
to  him,  "  Man,  who  wast  enslaved  by  the  miry 
clay,  how  fares  it  with  thee  ?"  he  sends  back  the 
response,  "  Free  indeed  !  The  captivity  is  ended  ; 
I  am  a  child  of  liberty ;  He  brought  me  up  out  of 
the  miry  clay  and  set  my  feet  upon  a  rock."  That 
is  the  life  of  the  Kingdom,  and  such  are  its 
liberating  forces.  To  some  they  are  no  more  than 
fiction,  a  beautiful  dream  of  an  Utopian  world. 
They  cannot  realise  them.  They  are  outsiders, 
and  so  the  forces  are  unthinkable,  for  "  except  a 
man  be  born  again  "  these  powers  to  him  are  non- 
existent, "  he  cannot  see  the  Kingdom  of  God." 

Let  me  give  another  example  of  the  forces  at 
work  in  the  regenerate,  and  of  which  the 
unregenerate  are  quite  unable  to  conceive.  I 
named  my  first  example  the  Kberating  forces  of 
the  Kingdom;   let  me  name  the  second  example, 

144 


The  Forces  of  the   Kingdom* 

the  fertilising  forces  of  the  Kingdom.  Now 
whether  we  are  in  the  Kingdom  or  not  we  are 
under  the  same  obhgations.  We  do  not  lower  the 
standard  of  judgment  by  the  evasion  of  a  duty. 
That  is  a  truth  that  needs  to  be  remembered.  It 
is  sometimes  assumed  that  if  a  man  turn  a  deaf 
ear  to  the  calls  of  the  Christian  religion,  he  will  not 
be  subjected  to  the  same  exacting  judgment.  It  is 
an  appalling  error.  The  standard  remains,  alike 
for  all  men,  and  "we  must  all  appear  before  the 
judgment  seat  of  Christ."  We  are  under  common 
obligation,  whether  we  are  in  the  Kingdom,  or  out 
of  it,  to  grow  certain  virtues  and  graces,  love,  joy, 
peace,  longsuffering,  meekness,  faith,  and  many 
others  of  the  shining  band.  Now  there  are  some 
people,  who  are  rightly  named  "  saints,"  who  are 
in  the  Kingdom,  and  who  manifest  these  disposi- 
tions in  marvellous  strength  and  beauty.  If  I 
ask  them  by  what  power  these  fair  flowers  are 
grown,  they  one  and  all  reply  that  they  grow  them 
"  in  grace."  Do  you  understand  that  1  Is  it  any 
more  to  you  than  a  word  }  Does  it  suggest  a  great 
reality  which  in  your  personal  experience  you  see 
and  know  ?  "  Grace  !"  That  is  the  familiar  power 
of  the  Kingdom.  They  who  are  in  the  Kingdom 
declare  that  they  have  mysterious  forces  within 
them,  which  they  call  by  the  mysterious  name  of 
"  grace."     Yes,  they  declare  that  in  the  Kingdom 

145  K 


Brooks   by   the  Traveller's  Way* 

they  have  a  "  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth,"  and 
that  with  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  moral  and 
spiritual  culture  becomes  an  eager  delight.  That  is 
what  grace  provides  in  the  Kingdom,  a  new  heaven 
and  a  new  earth.  That  is  what  is  wanted  in  the 
desert  of  Sahara  if  ever  that  desert  is  to  blossom 
as  the  rose.  There  is  wanted  a  new  heaven,  which 
shall  drop  fatness,  in  showers  of  refreshing  rain ; 
and  there  is  wanted  a  new  earth,  in  which  the 
barren  sand  shall  be  transformed  into  rich  and 
fertile  soil.  We  must  get  into  conditions  where 
the  God  above  us  can  come  down  in  showers  of 
blessing,  and  where  the  stony  heart  within  us  can 
be  transformed  into  prepared  and  eager  ground. 
These  conditions  are  to  be  found  within  the 
Kingdom.  Within  the  Kingdom  the  heavens  are 
opened  in  an  outpouring  of  grace.  "  I  will  come 
down  like  rain  "  ;  "  then  shall  the  earth  yield  her 
increase."  And  so  the  saints  grow  their  graces 
in  grace.  Can  you  understand  that  mysterious 
force  ?  Do  you  know  it .?  Or  do  you  stand 
aghast,  with  the  confused  inquiry — "  How  can 
these  things  be  ?  "  I  can  understand  how  a  vine 
that  is  thin  and  lank  and  fruitless,  shivering  out- 
side a  vinery,  might  look  through  the  glass  at  the 
sister  vine  that  is  burdened  with  clusters,  and 
despondingly  cry,  "  How  can  these  things  be  ? " 
It  is  all  a  difference  of  atmospheric  conditions.     On 

146 


The  Forces  of  the   Kingdom, 

the  other  side  of  the  glass  forces  are  reigning  and 
at  work  which  to  the  outside  vine  are  practically 
non-existent.  Just  across  the  frontier,  in  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  "  grace  reigns,"  and  in  grace 
the  citizens  accomplish  their  growth.  Do  you 
know  the  gracious  powers  ?  Or  are  you  an  out- 
sider ?  Then  to  you  the  powers  are  unthinkable, 
and  "  except  a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see 
the  Kingdom  of  God." 

The  Kingdom  can  only  be  known  by  its  natives. 
How  can  we  become  naturalised  ^  How  can  we 
cross  the  borders  and  come  within  the  range  of 
the  gracious  forces  of  the  Kingdom .?  "  Except  ye 
become  as  little  children,  ye  cannot  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven."  We  must  lay  aside  all  pride, 
and  kneel  at  the  King's  feet.  We  must  resign  our 
wills.  We  must  be  docile  and  obedient.  "  Blessed 
are  the  poor  in  spirit,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven." 


147 


xix* 


Saving   the   World* 

**  God  so  loved  the  world." — John  Hi,  i6. 
*'  I  pray  not  for  the  world."— y^/fw  xvii.  g. 

"  God  so  loved  the  world."  "  I  pray  not  for  the 
world."  We  are  confronted  by  an  apparent 
antagonism.  The  two  dispositions  appear  to  be 
contradictory.  "  God  so  loved  the  world."  The 
evangel  suggests  an  all-affectionate  inclusiveness. 
"  I  pray  not  for  the  world."  The  supplication 
suggests  a  partial  and  severe  exclusion.  The  one 
describes  a  circle  which  embraces  a  race ;  "  God 
so  loved  the  world."  The  other  defines  a  sphere 
of  benediction  which  comprehends  an  elected  few ; 
"  I  pray  not  for  the  world."  It  is  well  to  feel  the 
strain  of  the  apparent  antagonism  in  order  that 
we  may  enter  into  the  peace  of  the  fundamental 
consistency. 

148 


Saving  the  World. 

Now,  let  us  begin  here.  The  Christianised 
instinct  revolts  against  a  spiritual  exclusiveness. 
The  culture  of  the  Christian  religion  is  in  the 
direction  of  an  ever-expanding  comprehension. 
Growth  in  grace  is  growth  in  sympathetic  inclusive- 
ness.  We  may  measure  our  growth  by  the  size 
and  quality  of  our  fellowships.  Measure  the 
circumference  of  your  love  and  you  have  got  the 
amplitude  of  your  Christian  life.  "  Thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbour."  That  is  the  circle  which 
defines  the  size  of  life  lived  in  the  days  of  the 
early  covenant.  "  Thou  shalt  love  thine  enemy." 
Such  is  the  incomparably  larger  circle  defined  for 
the  privileged  possessor  of  the  new  covenant  in 
Christ  our  Lord.  "  Thou  shalt  love  thine  enemy." 
That  is  the  stretched-out  circle  of  affectionate 
fellowship  enjoined  by  the  Christian  religion.  It 
stretches  out  to  include  the  outermost.  There  is 
no  one  beyond  its  pale.  Within  the  scope  of  its 
far-reaching  lines  the  whole  family  of  man  can 
find  a  home. 

"  Thou  shalt  love  thine  enemy."  "  I  pray  not 
for  the  world."  Now  the  Master  is  never  behind 
the  disciple.  In  this  warfare  the  great  Com- 
mandant never  lags  in  the  rear  of  the  common 
soldier.  In  Christ  the  ideal  is  realised,  and  all  » 
the  law  is  fulfilled.  "  I  pray  not  for  the  world." 
And  yet  I  know  the  world  is  loved,  and  cared  for, 

149 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's   Way. 

and  is  never  absent  from  His  yearning  and 
solicitous  regard.  "  I  pray  not  for  the  world/' 
and  yet  it  was  the  world  that  was  never  out  of 
His  sight.  "  I  pray  not  for  the  world,"  and  yet 
the  world  was  the  desert  which  He  yearned  to 
grace  and  adorn  with  glories  from  the  paradise  of 
heaven.  "  I  pray  not  for  the  world,"  and  yet  the 
world  projected  itself  into  His  prayers  as  the  goal 
and  bourne  of  ultimate  benediction.  Range 
through  the  course  of  this  prayer,  and  see  how 
the  salvation  of  the  world  emerges  as  the  yearned- 
for  product  of  all  His  saving  ministry.  "  That 
they  all  may  be  one,  as  Thou,  Father,  art  in  Me, 
and  I  in  Thee,  that  they  also  may  be  one  in  us, 
that  the  world  may  believe  that  Thou  hast  sent 
Me!'  Do  you  mark  the  dazzling  peak  of  the 
shining  gradient  ?  "  I  pray  not  for  the  world. 
"  I  pray  for  them,  that  they  may  be  one  .  .  . 
that  the  world  may  believe."  The  apparent 
exclusion  is  only  a  loving  design  for  an  ultimate 
benediction.  See  how  the  wealthy  purpose  again 
emerges  in  the  subsequent  reaches  of  the  pr&.yer. 
"  And  the  glory  which  Thou  gavest  Me  I  have 
given  them ;  that  they  may  be  one,  even  as  we  are 
one.  I  in  them  and  Thou  in  Me,  that  they 
may  be  made  perfect  in  one,  ajid  that  the 
world  may  know!'  Mark  again,  how  the  whole 
thought  and  purpose  rises  to  a  consummation  in 

150 


Saving    the  World. 

the  illumination  and  salvation  of  the  world.  "  That 
the  world  may  know!"  The  whole  world  is  the 
object  of  saving  benediction,  but  of  benediction 
through  the  means  and  ministry  of  a  chosen  few. 
"  I  pray  not  for  the  world,  but  for  them  which  Thou 
hast  given  Me  " :  but  for  them,  in  order  that  the 
world,  through  them,  may  be  blessed  and  saved. 

I.  Now,  this  is  the  vital  doctrine  of  election,  the 
election  of  some  for  the  benediction  of  the  whole. 
"  I  pray  for  these  that  the  world  may  believe." 
The  elect  are  not  called  to  a  sphere  of  exclusion, 
but  to  a  function  of  transmission.  They  are  not 
elected  to  privilege,  but  to  service ;  not  to  the 
secret  hoarding  of  blessing,  but  to  its  widespread 
distribution.  The  elect  are  not  circles,  but  centres, 
heat  centres  for  radiating  gracious  influence  to 
remote  circumferences,  that  under  its  warming 
and  softening  ministry  "  the  world  may  believe " 
in  the  Son  of  God.  That  is  the  way  of  the  Master. 
He  will  work  upon  the  frozen  streams  and  rivers 
of  the  world  by  raising  the  general  temperature. 
He  seeks  to  increase  the  fervour  of  those  who  are 
His  own,  and,  through  the  pure  and  intense  flame 
of  their  zeal,  to  create  an  atmosphere  in  which  the 
hard  frozen  indifference  of  the  world  shall  be 
melted  into  wonder,  into  tender  inquisition,  that 
on  the  cold  altar  of  the  heart  may  be  kindled  the 
fire  of  spiritual  devotion.       "  I  pray  not  for  the 


Brooks  by  the   Traveller's  Way* 

world,  but  for  these "  .  .  .  "  that  the  world 
may  believe."  Through  the  disciple  He  seeks  the 
vagrant ;  through  the  believer  He  seeks  the 
unbeHever;  through  the  Church  He  seeks  the 
world ;  through  the  ministry  of  Christian  men 
and  women  the  world  is  to  be  won  for  Christ. 

2.  Now  in  this  great  prayer  there  are  one  or 
two  clear  glimpses  of  certain  convictions  which  will 
have  to  be  created  before  the  world  can  be  con- 
strained to  turn  to  Christ.  "  That  the  world  may 
believe  that  Thou  hast  sent  Me."  We  have  to  get 
that  conviction  deeply  and  ineradicably  embedded 
into  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  world.  And  here 
is  another  collateral  conviction,  "  That  the  world 
may  know  that  Thou  hast  loved  them."  The 
behevers  are  to  make  that  fact  shine  like  the 
noontide,  that  the  world  can  no  more  evade  it  than 
it  can  evade  the  obtrusive  glory  of  the  meridian 
sun.  Somehow  or  other  the  disciples  of  Christ  are 
to  drive  this  twofold  persuasion  into  the  heart  of 
the  world  :  — 

(i)  That  Christ  was  really  sent,  that  what  He 
said  was  true,  that  He  is  grandly  dependable ;  and 

(2)  That  we  are  loved  by  Him,  and  that  the 
Christ  life  is  the  life  of  blessedness.  "  That  the 
world  may  believe  that  Thou  hast  sent  Me  " ;  the 
dependableness  of  Christ.  "  That  the  world  may 
know  that  Thou  hast  loved  them " ,   the  blessed- 

152 


Saving   the  World. 

ness  of  His  disciples.  Whatever  else  the  world 
may  do  or  not  do,  whatever  may  be  the  nature 
and  extent  of  its  revolt,  if  men  will  deliberately 
steer  their  lives  into  perdition  and  hell,  we  believers 
in  Christ  are  to  see  to  it  that  they  do  it  with  their 
eyes  open,  and  with  these  two  convictions  sounding 
through  their  souls  like  a  great  bell,  the  Lord  is 
dependable,  and  the  life  of  His  disciples  is  blessed. 
How  are  we  to  do  it  ?  I  gather  the  answer 
from  the  prayer  of  our  Lord.  These  convictions 
are  to  be  driven  home  to  the  world  by  the  force 
and  impetus  of  redeemed  character.  See  the 
march  and  ascension  of  the  wonderful  prayer. 
"  I  pray  not  that  Thou  shouldest  take  them  out  | 
of  the  world,  but  that  Thou  shouldst  keep  them 
from  the  evil."  And  a  little  later  the  light 
breaks  upon  the  primary  purpose — "  that  the 
world  may  believe  that  Thou  hast  sent  Me." 
"  Kept  from  the  evil  .  .  .  that  the  world  may 
believe."  The  unworldliness  of  the  believer  is  to 
make  the  world  believe  in  the  dependableness  of 
the  Lord.  Our  moral  elevation  is  to  be  the  initial 
ministry  in  the  world's  salvation.  By  our  elevation 
we  are  to  create  a  profound  conviction  that  it  is 
possible  to  resist  the  gravitation  of  the  world.  The 
strength  of  our  resistance  is  to  placard  before  the 
world  the  might  and  dependableness  of  our  God. 
We  are  to  manifest  pure  aspiration  amid  defiling 

153 


Brooks  by  the   Traveller's  Way, 

ambition.  We  are  to  reveal  refined  tastes  amid 
appetites  that  are  coarse  and  defiled.  By  the 
strenuousness  of  Godly  living  we  are  to  drive  the 
conviction  into  the  souls  of  men  that  we  are  in 
solemn  league  and  covenant  with  a  mighty  God. 
"  Kept  from  the  evil  .  .  .  that  the  world  may 
believe." 

Listen  again  to  the  Master  in  prayer — "  that 
they  may  be  one,  even  as  we  are  one ;  I  in  them, 
and  Thou  in  Me  .  .  .  that  the  world  may  know 
that  Thou  hast  loved  them."  Do  you  see  the 
creative  force  of  the  second  of  these  convictions  ? 
We  are  to  make  the  world  believe  that  the  Lord 
loves  us  by  the  loveliness  of  our  fellowships. 
"  That  they  may  be  one  .  .  .  that  the  world 
may  know."  Our  oneness,  the  absence  of  division 
and  strife,  the  beauty  of  our  communion,  the  lovely 
vision  of  exquisite  family  kinship,  is  to  convince 
the  world  that  the  love  of  God  has  been  engaged 
in  so  fair  a  creation.  The  winsome  bloom  that 
rests  upon  our  relationships  is  to  persuade  the 
world  that  the  life  is  heaven-born.  We  are  to 
placard  the  love  of  God  through  the  loveliness  of 
our  communion.  "  That  they  may  be  one  .  . 
that  the  world  may  believe." 

Here,  then,  my  brethren,  is  the  setting  of  the 
divine  purpose.  Our  Lord  will  work  upon  the 
world  through  us.     Through  our  moral  elevation 

154 


Saving  the  World* 

and  fine  spiritual  kinships  He  would  compel  the 
world  into  primary  and  fruitful  beliefs.  Let  us 
place  the  matter  before  us  in  pertinent  application.  \ 
If  the  organised  worldliness  of  this  city  is  ever  to 
be  disturbed,  if  worldly  men  and  women  are  to 
be  startled  into  wonder  and  incipient  belief,  it  will 
have  to  be  done  through  the  unworldliness  and 
fine  spiritual  fellowships  of  professed  disciples  of 
Christ. 

Are  we  ready  for  the  Master's  use  ?  Do  we  i 
really  believe  in  the  possibility  of  the  world's 
redemption  ?  How  spacious  is  our  belief ;  how 
large  is  the  possibility  which  we  entertain  ?  When 
we  survey  the  clamant  needs  of  the  race,  do  we 
discover  any  "  hopeless  cases  "  ?  Where  have  we 
obtained  the  right  to  use  the  word  "  hopeless "  ? 
What  evidence  or  experience  will  justify  us  in 
saying  of  any  man,  "  He  is  too  far  gone  "  ?  In 
what  atmosphere  of  thought  and  expectancy  are 
we  living  ?  Are  we  dwelling  in  the  Book  of 
Ecclesiastes,  or  making  our  home  in  the  Gospel  * 
by  John  ?  Let  us  ransack  the  city.  Let  us  rake 
out,  if  we  can  find  him,  the  worst  of  our  race. 
Let  us  produce  the  sin-steeped  and  the  lust- 
soddened  soul,  and  then  let  us  hear  the  word  of 
the  Master.  "  Believest  thou  that  I  am  able  to 
do  this  "  ?  The  first  condition  of  being  capable 
ministers  of  Christ,  is  to  believe  in  the  possibility 

155 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

of  the  world's  salvation.  Let  us  become  reverently 
familiar  with  the  glorious  evangel  until  the  music 
of  the  Gospel  rings  through  every  part  of  our 
being.  Let  us  ask  Him  to  free  us,  not  only  from 
I  doubt,  but  from  uncleanness.  Let  us  plead  with 
Him  to  make  us  the  fitting  instruments  of  His 
power,  that  through  the  beauty  and  strength  of 
our  life,  and  the  steady  persistence  of  our  faith, 
the  world  may  be  allured  into  the  fellowship  of 
the  saints  in  light. 


156 


The   Modesty   of   Love* 

*'  Love  envieth  not  ;    love  vaunteth  not  itself,  is  not  puffed 
up,  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly,  seeketh  not  her  own." 

— I  Cor,  xiii.  ^,  5. 

"  Love  envieth  not!'  And  what  is  envy  ?  To  } 
envy  any  one  is  to  repine  at  their  superior  excel- 
lence. But  the  repining  leads  to  something  worse. 
Envious  repining  is  the  parent  of  malice  and  ill-will. 
Nay,  envy  drags  after  it  a  whole  brood  of  evil  spirits. 
I  think  the  great  tempter  must  be  exaltingly  satis- 
fied when  he  has  inserted  into  the  life  of  anyone 
this  germ  of  envy.  There  are  some  insects  which 
insert  their  eggs  into  the  bodies  of  others,  and  at 
first  the  insertion  seems  to  be  comparatively  harm- 
less. But  the  inserted  hfe  begins  to  develop,  and 
to  feed  upon  the  body  in  which  it  dwells,  and 
matures  and  strengthens  itself  by  the  entire  destruc- 
tion of  the  other.  And  so  envy  is  somehow  or  other 
introduced  into  our  spirits,  and  may  at  first  appear 

157 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way^ 

nothing  very  harmful.  But  it  begins  to  develop 
and  mature,  until  it  has  devoured  the  whole  of  our 
spiritual  life. 

Here  are  these  Corinthians,  endowed  with  various 
gifts.  One  had  eloquence,  another  had  wealth, 
another  had  a  wonder-working  faith.  And  they 
became  envious  one  of  another.  The  one  who  had 
eloquence  envied  the  one  who  had  faith,  and  from 
envy  he  passed  to  ill-will  and  disparagement  and 
slander.  And  the  disposition  became  so  prevalent 
that  this  Corinthian  Church  became  the  dwelling-- 
place  rather  of  Satan  than  of  Christ.  Well,  you 
know  how  prone  we  are  to  this  disposition  to-day. 
Everywhere  we  are  exposed  to  its  insidious  allure- 
ments. Here  are  two  ministers.  One  has  an  in- 
fluence assuredly  broadening,  and  a  congregation 
steadily  increasing.  The  other  has  a  congregation 
slowly  diminishing,  and  an  influence  apparently 
shrinking.  Oh,  how  terribly  strong  is  the  tempta- 
tion to  envy  and  ill-will!  Is  it  otherwise  in  social 
functions  .?  When  one  who  has  moved  in  your  circle 
becomes  a  general  favourite  and  is  greatly  courted 
and  admired,  while  you  are  partially  overlooked  or 
altogether  ignored,  how  fierce  is  the  temptation  to 
envy,  and  slander,  and  ill-will !  And  so  it  is  every- 
where and  in  every  life.  When  we  turn  with  this 
thought  in  our  minds  to  gaze  upon  the  personality 
of  John  the  Baptist,  I  think  it  shines  with  most 

158 


The  Modesty  of    Love^ 

supernal  light.  Here  he  is  by  the  Jordan,  the  popu- 
lar favourite ;  vast  crowds  enrol  themselves  in  his 
discipleship.  And  here  comes  Jesus,  and  the  crowds 
about  John  begin  to  melt  away;  his  popularity 
begins  to  wane,  and  the  enthusiasm  which  he  en- 
joyed gathers  about  the  Nazarene.  But  there  is 
no  envy !  He  quietly  and  joyfully  says — "  He  must 
increase,  but  I  must  decrease."  I  am  only  as  the 
moon,  and  now  that  the  sun  is  risen,  I  must  fade 
away  into  obscurity.  "  He  must  increase,  but  I  must 
decrease."  No  envy,  I  say.  And  why .''  Because 
John  loved  the  Nazarene.  He  loved  His  mission ; 
he  loved  Him  with  a  great  and  passionate  love,  and 
with  love  there  can  be  no  envy.  There  is  only  one 
thing  that  can  kill  envy,  and  that  is  love.  Every- 
thing else  is  impotent.  If  you  want  to  destroy  the 
envy  that  is  lurking  in  your  heart,  you  must  have 
created  in  your  heart  the  atmosphere  of  love,  and 
the  secret  of  that  atmosphere  you  can  learn  at  the 
foot  of  the  Cross.     "  Love  envieth  not." 

"  Love  vaunteth  not  itself,  is  not  puffed  up!'  No, 
where  there  is  no  envy  there  W\\\  be  no  vaunting 
of  oneself,  no  self-glorifying.  It  is  the  envious  folk 
who  are  the  swaggerers.  Envy  always  forces  a 
man  into  self  assertion.  Envy  leads  a  man  to  dis- 
parage another,  and  the  disparagement  is  always 
directed  to  the  commendation  of  himself.  If  you 
listen  to  an  envious  person,  who  is  engaged  in  dis- 

159 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way* 

paraging  another,  you  will  find  that  the  whole  pro- 
cess is  a  glorification  of  himself.  There  is  nothing 
like  envy  for  puffing  us  up.  Envy  vaunts  itself  by 
slighting  others.  I  have  heard  a  man  speak  very 
critically  and  disparagingly  of  the  electric  light, 
pointing  out  its  irregularity  and  its  defects,  but  then 
he  was  a  large  shareholder  in  gas  companies !  And 
I  think  this  has  its  moral  application.  Our  envy 
leads  us  to  speak  disparagingly  of  other  people's 
excellences,  in  order  that  we  may  vaunt  ourselves. 
We  criticise  them  that  we  may  puff  up  ourselves. 
Our  envy  makes  us  proud.  Love  envieth  not,  and 
therefore  it  hasn't  the  progeny  of  envy — "  it  vaunt- 
eth  not  itself,  is  not  puffed  up." 

"  Love  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemlyy  Envy 
does.  Envy  leads  to  self-vaunting,  to  swagger,  to 
self-conceit,  and  self-conceit  leads  to  unseemly  be- 
haviour. The  envious,  conceited  man  is  for  ever 
pushing  himself  to  the  front.  He  is  always  putting 
himself  in  evidence,  thrusting  himself  before  the 
public  gaze.  In  this  Corinthian  Church  every  en- 
vious man  was  wanting  to  exhibit  his  own  gift. 
They  all  wanted  to  be  at  the  front,  and  their  be- 
haviour became  unseemly.  "  Unseemly,''  or,  as  the 
word  literally  means,  mis-shapen ;  their  behaviour 
became  shapeless,  ugly ;  it  had  no  form,  no  comeli- 
ness. It  ignored  all  the  claims  of  civility  and  grace. 
Well,  I  think  we  shall  all  feel  that  this  unseemliness 

1 60 


The  Modesty  of  Love. 

of  behaviour  is  not  unknown  among  us  to-day. 
There  is  a  great  deal  of  the  behaviour,  even  of 
Christians,  which  is  shapeless  and  ugly.  We  are 
called  by  our  Master  to  see  to  it  that  our  behaviour 
is  graceful  and  comely.  They  who  ascend  into  the 
hill  of  the  Lord  have  not  only  to  have  a  pure  heart, 
but  clean  hands.  Their  behaviour  is  to  be  as  graceful 
as  their  principles  are  true.  I  think  we  might  all 
give  a  little  more  concern  to  this — that  we  might 
emphasize  the  clean  hands  as  well  as  the  pure  heart, 
the  seemly  behaviour  as  well  as  the  secret  life. 
There  are  some  men  who  even  make  their  blunt- 
ness  a  boast,  and  others  find  defences  for  them  in 
the  excuse  that  "  they  mean  well."  That  is  not 
enough.  We  have  not  only  to  mean  well,  but  to 
seem  well.  The  demand  is  for  a  pure  heart  and 
for  clean  hands.  No  man  has  a  right  to  be  blunt  in 
his  speech  and  shapeless  and  ugly  in  his  behaviour, 
whatever  may  be  the  worth  and  rectitude  of  his 
meaning.  A  good  picture  can  be  greatly  helped  by 
good  mounting.  And  so  it  is  in  the  Christian  life 
— behaviour  is  the  mounting  of  character,  and  we 
are  called  upon  to  have  the  character  good  and  the 
behaviour  seemly.  But  when  the  unseemly  be- 
haviour arises  from  envy,  when  pride  makes  us  self- 
assertive,  when  our  lust  for  praise  leads  us  to 
trample  upon  others  that  we  may  display  ourselves, 
when  this  makes  our  behaviour  unseemly,  there  is 

l6l  L 


Brooks  by  the   Traveller's  Way, 

only  one  remedy.  We  must  get  our  hearts  filled 
with  love,  the  cleansing  love  which  we  may  find  at 
the  Cross,  and  then  all  the  unseemly  behaviour  will 
cease.     "  Love  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly." 

"  Love  seekeih  not  her  own."  So  far  from  rush- 
ing into  any  unseemliness  in  seeking  to  display 
itself,  so  far  from  trampling  upon  the  rights  of 
others,  love  does  not  even  claim  her  own.  "  Love 
>  seeketh  not  her  own."  She  claims  no  rights  except 
where  moral  principle  is  involved,  and  on  this  she 
takes  a  stand,  and  the  gates  of  hell  cannot  prevail 
against  her.  There  is  a  quaint,  grey  monument  in 
the  sweet  old  town  of  Appleby,  which  was  built  in 
the  days  of  the  Puritans,  and  on  which  these  words 
are  inscribed  :  "  Maintain  your  loyalty  ;  preserve 
your  rights."  Maintain  your  rights!  Aye,  but 
they  were  the  crown  rights  of  manhood,  freedom  to 
oppose  iniquity,  freedom  to  worship  God,  and  the 
very  love  in  the  hearts  of  those  strong  old  Puritans 
made  them  claim  the  rights,  and  support  their 
claim  by  death.  There  are  rights  which  true  love 
'^^will  never  relinquish.  She  will  always  seek  her 
own.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  rights  which 
love  is  ever  prepared  to  yield  to  others.  If  love 
had  a  right  to  the  uppermost  seat  at  a  feast,  and 
somebody  else  has  got  it,  love  would  seek  not  her 
own,  but  would  gracefully  insist  on  the  rights  of  the 
other.     If  love  had  a  sitting  in  the  Church  of  Christ, 

162 


The  Modesty   of    Love* 

and  came  and  found  that  someone  else  was  seated 
there,  love  would  not  behave  itself  unseemly ;  love 
would  seek  not  her  own,  but  would  cheerfully  seek 
a  seat  elsewhere.  Is  not  this  the  way  of  love  ? 
Would  not  this  be  the  way  of  Christ  ?  How  many 
opportunities  there  are,  in  the  whole  round  of  life, 
where  love  might  graciously  abdicate  its  own  rights 
for  the  comfort  and  interest  of  others.  Let  us  keep 
our  eyes  open,  that  when  the  Master  gives  us  such 
opportunity,  we  may  use  it  according  to  His  desire. 
And,  some  day,  when  the  evening  of  our  life  is  come, 
He  will  come  to  us,  and  because  we  have  sought  not 
our  own,  but  have  cheerfully  yielded  to  others,  He 
will  whisper  to  us,  "  Friend,  go  up  higher,"  and  the 
word  will  make  us  leap  for  joy  as  we  enter  the 
eternal  world.     "  Love  seeketh  not  her  own." 


163 


xxi^ 


Feverishness. 

"Sick  of  a  fever.       And    He   touched  her  hand,  and   the 
fever  left  her." — Matt.  viii.  i^. 

I  HAVE  no  hesitation  in  interpreting  this  miracle 
as  symboHc  of  a  greater  miracle  which  the  Master 
works  upon  the  soul.  He  has  made  it  perfectly 
clear  that  such  interpretation  is  not  an  illegitimate 
use  of  His  healing  ministry.  "  That  ye  may  know 
that  the  Son  of  Man  hath  power  on  earth  to  for- 
give sins  (then  saith  He  to  the  sick  of  the  palsy), 
Arise,  take  up  thy  bed."  He  performed  a  miracle 
upon  the  body  that  we  might  know  He  can  per- 
form an  analogous  miracle  upon  the  soul.       He 

'  released  a  paralysed  body  that  we  might  know  He 
is  able  to  release  a  paralysed  spirit.  And  so  with 
the  incident  before  us.  By  a  touch  He  drove  the 
fever  from  the  body,  that  we;  may  know  He  can 

(  drive  the  feverishness  out  of  the  soul.       I  want, 

164 


Feverishness. 

therefore,  to  consider  two  or  three  of  the  fevers  by 
which  our  spirits  are  afflicted,  and  to  proclaim  the 
Christ  as  the  One  by  whom  they  can  be  destroyed. 

L    The    Fevef'Stricken. 

There  is  the  fever  of  anxiety.  We  become 
"heated  hot  with  burning  fears."  We  are  fearful 
about  yesterday,  fearful  about  the  things  we  are 
doing  to-day,  fearful  about  the  things  which  con- 
front us  on  the  morrow.  We  become  feverish  over 
"  evils  that  never  arrive."  Now  anxiety  is  a 
wasting  power.  Even  from  the  point  of  view  of 
economy  it  is  a  foolish  expenditure.  We  could 
obtain  better  results  with  a  smaller  outlay. 
Temperate  carefulness  accomplishes  more  than  a 
burning  anxiety.  I  have  noticed  that  with  the  in- 
candescent lights,  firm  control  of  the  gas  results  in 
more  brilliant  illumination.  Turn  the  gas  on  to 
the  full,  and  whilst  you  obtain  a  wasteful  roar  you 
get  a  poorer  light.  It  is  even  so  with  anxiety.  Its 
issues  ajre  more  impoverished  than  those  attained 
by  calm  and  temperate  thought.  But  the  fever  of 
anxiety  is  more  than  bad  economy.  It  impairs  and 
enervates  the  moral  powers.  Anxiety  easily  passes 
into  fretfulness,  and  fretfulness  is  frequently 
creative  of  peevishness,  and  peevishness  is  easily 
conducive  to  a  chronic  evil  temper.     It  is  not  with- 

165 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

out  suggestiveness  that  the  words  "  anxiety "  and 
"  anger "  are  vitally  related,  and  spring  from  a 
common  root.  Anxiety  consumes  the  moral  de- 
fences, burns  away  the  forces  of  self-control,  and 
so  makes  the  life  an  easy  prey  to  the  irritations 
which  so  plentifully  beset  us. 

There  is  t/ie  fever  of  zealotry.  I  am  conscious 
that  the  word  I  have  chosen  as  descriptive  of  this 
fever  is  not  altogether  adequate.  I  use  it  in  the 
sense  of  unillumined  zeal.  We  require  ardour  in 
the  religious  life,  and  the  demand  for  "  hre  "  in  our 
devotion  and  fellowship  has  become  a  common- 
place. But  ardour  is  not  sufficient.  We  may 
have  heat  accompanied  by  a  great  deal  of  smoke. 
We  need  not  only  heat,  but  Hght.  John  the  Baptist 
was  a  "  burning  and  a  shining  light." 

And  so  the  New  Testament  has  much  to  say 
about  the  necessity  of  "  knowledge,"  "  understand- 
ing," "  discernment,"  and  we  are  strongly  warned 
against  a  religious  life  from  which  these  elements 
are  absent.  ''  They  have  a  zeal  for  God,  but  not 
according  to  knowledge."  They  had  abundance  of 
passion,  but  little  discretion.  Now,  zeal  allied  with 
knowledge  creates  a  fruitful  fervour.  Zeal  bereft  of 
knowledge  is  a  perilous  fever.  And  here  again 
there  is  a  pregnant  suggestion  in  the  etymology  of 
the  words.       Fervour  is  akin  to  fever,  and  it  fre- 

i66 


Feverishness* 

quently  happens  that  the  one  passes  into  the  other. 
We  are  called  upon  to  grow  in  knowledge.  We  are 
bidden  to  exercise  our  senses  to  more  refined  dis- 
cernment. We  are  counselled  to  have  a  passion  for 
souls,  and  also  to  be  the  light  of  the  world 

There  is  the  fever  of  superstition.  Charles 
Kingsley  has  defined  superstition  as  "  an  unreason- 
ing fear  of  the  unknown."  I  think  we  may  perhaps 
express  the  same  thought  by  saying  that  supersti- 
tion arises  from  an  unworthy  conception  of  God. 
There  are  many  of  the  superstitions  which  distress 
men,  that  would  pass  away  like  mist  if  only  we  lived 
in  the  light  of  God's  countenance.  Where  super- 
stition dwells,  fever  abides.  The  life  is  never  calm 
and  restful  that  is  haunted  by  superstitions.  I  don't 
think  this  is  altogether  an  irrelevant  warning  even 
for  our  own  enlightened  day.  There  are  many 
apparently  trifling  superstitions  which  tend  to  dis- 
turb the  sanity  and  quietude  of  the  life.  Take  the 
superstition  which  gathers  round  about  Friday  as 
the  unlucky  day  of  the  week.  What  an  abhorrence 
there  is  of  the  suggestion  that  anyone  should  be 
married  on  a  Friday !  How  few  of  the  maids  who 
go  out  to  service  will  take  a  situation  on  a  Friday ! 
Such  superstitions  may  appear  to  be  harmless,  but 
in  reality  they  tend  to  consume  the  vitals  of  re- 
ligioa  There  are  other  superstitions  which  gather 
round  about  charms,  and  ritual,  and  sacraments,  all 

167 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

of  which  help  to  rob  Hfe  of  its  calmness  and  cool- 
ness, and  fill  it  with  perilous  heat 
^    There  is  the  fever  begotten  of  success.     We  might 
have  thought  that  success  would  lead  to  a  cool 
contentment.     We  should  have  assumed  that  when 
men  had  prospered   their  feverish   craving  would 
cease,   and   they  would  rest  in  calm   satisfaction. 
But  quite  the  opposite  appears  to  be  the  prevalent 
issue.     Success  fosters  feverishness  and  begets  a 
clamant  thirst.     The  more  one  succeeds  the  more 
he  wants  to  succeed.       The  more  he  obtains  the 
more  he  craves.       The  more  you  drink  when  you 
are  heated,  the  more  you  want  to  drink.       This 
seems  to  be  the  peril  of  the  prosperous  life.     There 
is  a  quaint  remark  in  Bacon's  "  Natural  History," 
which  I  think  has  wide  suggestion — "  It  hath  been 
noted  by  the  ancients  that  southern  winds,  blowing 
much,  do  cause  a  feverous  disposition."       I  think 
this  is  a  frequent  result  of  the  ministry  of  the  south 
wind.       When  the  soft,  genial  airs  of  prosperity 
breathe  over  a  man,  and  he  never  feels  the  rawness 
of  the  east  wind,  or  the  biting  nip  of  the  north 
wind,  he  is  apt  to  acquire  a  "  feverous  disposition  " 
which  consumes  the  wealthier  elements  of  his  soul. 

11.    The    Healing  Touch. 

"  He  touched  her  hand,  and  the  fever  left  her." 
"  He  touched  her  hand."       The  fever-stricken 

1 68 


Feverishness. 

came  into  contact  with  the  Christ,  and  at  the  touch 
the  fever  fled  as  if  afraid.  That  "  touch,"  in  the 
hfe  of  the  spirit,  expresses  communion  and  fellow- 
ship. The  feverishness  of  life,  whatever  guise  the 
fever  may  take,  is  to  be  dispelled  by  union  with  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord.  The  Christ  was  never  per- 
turbed ;  He  was  always  calm.  The  Christ  was 
never  distracted ;  He  was  always  collected.  The 
Christ  was  never  feverish ;  He  was  always  cooL 
When  everybody  else  was  feverish  and  panic 
stricken.  He  could  speak  about  "  my  peace."  Now 
it  is  the  very  secret  of  the  Christian  Gospel  that 
the  Spirit  of  the  Master  can  be  conveyed  to  His 
disciples.     He  can 


"Breathe  through  the  pulses  of  desire 
His  coolness  and  His  balm." 


By  my  union  with  Him,  the  ill-working  heat  of  my 
life  is  reduced.  I  am  delivered  from  panic,  I  am 
brought  into  a  normal  and  healthy  moral  tempera- 
ture. "  He  that  is  joined  unto  the  Lord  is  one 
spirit." 

But  the  cure  effected  by  the  great  Healer  is  more 
than  an  expulsion  of  the  fever.  It  is  a  defence 
against  it  when  contagion  is  prowling  about.  It 
is  the  man  with  pronounced  weaknesses  who  be- 
comes the  victim. 

169 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way* 

"Some  low  fever,  ranging  round  to  spy 

The  weakness  of  the  people found  the  girl, 

And  flung  her  down  upon  a  couch  of  fire." 

It  is  the  spiritually  weak  who  are  liable  to  perilous 
spiritual  fevers.  Now  union  with  the  Christ  turns 
our  weakness  into  strength.  Fellowship  ripens 
into  blessed  intimacy.  We  delight  in  our  com- 
panionship, and  "  the  joy  of  the  Lord  is  our 
strength."  In  that  companionship  we  shall  find 
that  the  word  of  the  Psalmist  is  confirmed,  only 
with  an  unspeakably  richer  meaning  :  "  Thou  shalt 
not  be  afraid  for  the  pestilence  that  walketh  in 
darkness  " ;  "  neither  shall  any  plague  come  nigh 
thy  dwelHng."  Perhaps  we  may  sum  up  the  cooling 
ministry  in  a  word,  which  we  may  borrow  from  the 
Prophet  Isaiah  :  "  He  that  believeth  shall  not  make 
haste."  He  shall  not  become  feverish,  or  get  into 
a  panic.  He  shall  remain  calm  and  cool  amid  all 
the  dangers  of  the  common  day. 

IIL    A    Grateful   Ministry* 

^  "  She  arose  and  ministered  unto  Him." 

May  we  not  with  advantage  accept  the  sugges- 
tion which  is  contained  in  these  words  ?  The  fever- 
stricken  woman  was  healed  by  the  Saviour;  and 
then,  when  she  was  delivered  from  her  fever,  "She 
arose  and  ministered  unto  Him."     She  had  been 

170 


Feverishness. 

lifted  out  of  sickness  into  sanity,  out  of  aches  and 
pains  into  peace,  out  of  feverishness  into  comfort, 
out  of  unrest  into  a  healthy  calm,  and  now  she 
uses  her  restored  strength  to  minister  to  her 
Saviour.  It  is  ever  the  way  of  the  healed  and 
invincible  life.  We  shall  best  preserve  our  health 
by  serving  our  Lord.  As  to  what  that  service 
shall  be.  He  has  given  us  a  broad  and  spacious 
conception  in  His  own  Word.  "  I  was  an  hungred, 
and  ye  gave  Me  meat."  "  Lord,  when  saw  we  Thee 
an  hungred  .?  "  When  did  we  minister  unto  Thee  ? 
"  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of 
these,  ye  did  it  unto  Me." 

("Calm  me,  my  God,  and  keep  me   calm, 
While  these  hot  breezes  blow ; 
Be  like  the  night-dew's  cooling  balm 
Upon  earth's  fevered  brow.' 


171 


xxii. 


The   Fruits   of   Godly   Fear, 

Psalm  XXV.  12 — 15 

"  What  man  is  he  that  feareih  the  Lord?  "  "  The 
fear  of  God  "  is  a  familiar  expression  in  the  Scrip- 
tures. Perhaps  our  very  intimacy  with  the  phrase 
has  somewhat  impoverished  our  sense  of  its  content. 
Let  us  seek  to  lay  hold  of  one  element  in  the  spa- 
cious word.  When  we  profoundly  fear  a  thing  we 
are  haunted  by  it.  It  affects  everything.  It  throws 
a  shadow  into  the  sunniest  hour,  and  brings  a  chill 
into  the  gayest  feast.  May  we  transfer  any  of  this 
meaning  into  our  interpretation  of  the  fear  of  God  ? 
To  fear  God  is  to  be  God-haunted,  God-possessed. 
But  immediately  we  see  the  defectiveness  of  the 
figure.  In  all  fruitful  fear  of  God  there  is  no  cring- 
ing, no  slavishness,  no  paralysing  terror.  Perfect 
love  "  casteth  out  "  this  type  of  fear.  Let  us,  then, 
change  our  figure.     We  speak  of  being  haunted  by 

172 


The  Fruits  of    Godly   Fear. 

an  air  of  music.  We  have  listened  to  some  sweet 
melody,  and  we  cannot  escape  from  its  gracious 
thraldom.  It  pervades  the  entire  day.  It  inter- 
weaves itself  with  all  our  changing  affairs.  We  hear 
it  in  our  work  and  in  our  leisure  ;  when  we  retire  to 
rest  and  when  we  awake.  It  haunts  us.  The 
analogy  may  help  us  to  some  apprehension  of  what 
is  meant  by  the  fear  of  God.  The  man  who  fears 
God  is  haunted  by  God's  presence.  God  is  an 
abiding  consciousness.  God  is  "  continually  before 
him."  Everything  is  seen  in  relationship  to  God. 
The  Divine  presence  pervades  the  mind  and  shapes 
and  colours  the  judgment.  Here  are  two  descrip- 
tions from  the  Word  of  God,  in  the  contrast  of  which 
the  meaning  will  be  made  quite  clear.  "  God  is  not 
in  all  his  thoughts."  The  Eternal  does  not  haunt 
his  mind.  Everything  is  secularised,  and  nothing 
is  referred  to  the  arbitrament  of  the  Divine  Will. 
He  is  not  God-possessed.  "  Pray  without  ceasing." 
Here  is  the  contrasted  mind  from  which  the  sense 
of  God  is  never  absent.  Like  an  air  of  penetrating 
music  the  divine  presence  pervades  the  exercise  of 
all  his  powers.  He  is  God-haunted,  and  in  the 
consciousness  of  that  presence  he  lives  and  moves 
and  has  his  being.     He  fears  God. 

What  would  be  the  fruits  of  such  a  fear.?     If 
God  haunts  the  life,  and  His  presence  is  welcomed, 

173 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way, 

what  will  be  the  gracious  issues  ?     The  succeeding 
verses  give  some  outline  of  the  spacious  ministry. 

"  Him  shall  He  teach  in  the  way  that  he  shall 
choose!'  He  shall  be  guided  in  his  choices.  He 
shall  have  the  gift  of  enlightenment.  His  discern- 
ment shall  be  refined  so  as  to  perceive  the  right  way 
when  the  ways  are  many.  His  judgment  shall  be 
illumined.  I  use  the  word  judgment  with  a  full 
and  comprehensive  meaning.  The  moral  judgment 
shall  be  instructed.  Its  perceptions  shall  be  ren- 
dered more  microscopic.  It  shall  be  able  tO'  discern 
among  scruples;  it  shall  become  more  and  more 
scrupulous.  It  shall  truthfully  detect  that  which  is 
least.  The  moral  choice  shall  be  firm  and  sure. 
But  it  is  not  only  the  moral  judgment  which  shall 
be  put  to  school.  The  practical  judgment  shall  also 
be  nurtured  and  refined  in  the  Lord's  school.  Such 
qualities  as  these  are  among  the  fruits  of  the  educa- 
tion— tact,  discretion,  insight,  foresight,  shrewd- 
ness. I  do  not  yield  the  distribution  of  these  gifts 
to  the  sovereignty  of  the  devil.  They  are  among 
the  gifts  of  the  Spirit.  Practical  sagacity  is  one  of 
the  bequests  of  the  Lord.  "  If  any  man  lack  wis- 
dom let  him  ask  of  God."  The  enlightenment 
covers  the  entire  field  of  human  life.  "  He  shall 
teach!'  The  word  is  full  of  comforting  suggestion. 
He  will  come  down  to  my  level.  He  will  search  out 
the  needs  of  the  individual  scholar.     He  will  begin 

174 


The  Fruits  of    Godly  Fear. 

where  1  am  able  to  begin.  He  will  break  things  up 
and  make  them  clear  to  me.  He  will  come  to  tender 
shoots  like  "  small  rain." 

"  His  soul  shall  dwell  at  ease!'  Restlessness  and  ){ 
worry  shall  be  abolished.     "  He  shall  lodge  in  the 
chamber  of  content."     The  sense  of  the  companion-  »'l 
ship  of  God  will  make  every  place  the  realm  of  j; 
promise,  and  in  every  place  he  will  find  the  riches 
of  grace.       Every  variety  of  condition  into  which 
his  life  may  pass  shall  provide  its  own  feast.     He 
will  not  fret  or  be  worried  even  though  he  be  led 
into  a  place  that  abounds  with  antagonisms.       He 
will  still  be  "  at  ease."     "  Thou  preparest  a  table 
before  me  in  the  presence  of  mine  enemies."     That 
is  a  wonderfully  heartening  testimony !     When  the 
foes  are  all  about  him,  and  his  besetment  appears  to 
be  perilous,  in  the  very  midst  of  it  all  he  sits  down 
to  feast  with  God.       And  so  he  "  dwells  at  ease," 
wherever  his  lot  is  cast.     Is  not  this  only  a  para- 
phrase of  the  apostolic  word,  "  I  have  learned  in  j    ;^ 
whatsoever  state  I  am  therewith  to  be  content."     If 
the  dwelling-place  be  one  of  tribulation,  even  in 
this  dark  spot  the  Lord's  treasure  may  be  found. 
"  Tribulation  worketh  patience,  and  patience  hope." 
Such  are  the  jewels  to  be  found  in  this  black  mine. 
The  God-haunted  man   is  restful   in  every  place 
because  the  all-sufficient  resource  accompanies  him 

175 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

in  the  abiding  companionship   of   God.       ''  With 
Christ  in  the  vessel,  he  smiles  at  the  storm." 

"  His  seed  shall  inherit  the  earth!'  Children 
become  heirs  when  parents  become  pious.  The 
God-possessed  transmits  a  legacy  of  blessing.  Our 
children  fare  the  better  when  we  fear  the  Lord.  It 
would  be  a  fruitful  subject  of  meditation  for  us  to 
sit  down  and  quietly  think  about  the  bequests  of 
piety.  It  would  be  a  profitable  exercise  to  calculate 
what  one  may  inherit  because  another  man  was 
good.  The  men  and  women  who  are  haunted  by 
God  and  live  in  His  fear  bequeath  pure  vital  force, 
rare  moral  energy,  and  a  spiritual  atmosphere  in 
which  sin  becomes  more  difficult.  But  among  the 
legacies  of  the  pious  there  are  ministries  other  than 
these.  "  Nevertheless  I  will  not  do  it  for  David 
thy  father's  sake."  Is  that  suggestive  of  a  common 
ministry  in  human  life }  Is  judgment  withheld 
from  the  son  because  of  the  sanctity  of  the  parent  t 
Is  the  son  blessed  because  the  father  prayed  }  What 
vistas  are  opened  out  by  the  application  of  the 
principle !  All  that  I  have  that  is  worth  anything 
may  be  a  deposit  from  the  prayerfulness  of  a  con- 
secrated parent.  I  may  have  an  inheritance  because 
he  walked  with  God.  "  The  mercy  of  the  Lord  is 
from  everlasting  to  everlasting  upon  them  that  fear 
Him,  and  His  righteousness  unto  children's  children 
to  such  as  keep  His  covenant."     V.^hen  I  fear  the 

176 


The    Fruits   of  Godly   Fear, 

Lord,  I  bequeath  a  spiritual  inheritance  to  my  seed. 
"  The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that  fear 
Him,  and  He  will  show  them  His  covenant^  They 
are  taken  into  intimate  fellowship.  They  become 
the  familiar  friends  of  God.  It  is  always  a  sign  of 
deepening  friendship  when  people  begin  to  open 
their  inner  rooms  to  us.  To  be  made  the  deposi- 
tory of  a  rare  secret  is  to  be  sealed  as  a  friend. 
When  anyone  tells  us  a  secret  joy,  it  is  a  mark  of 
intimacy ;  when  they  unveil  to  us  a  secret  grief,  it 
is  a  proof  of  the  closest  fellowship.  When  we  are 
taken  from  the  suburbs  of  a  man's  being  to  the 
centre,  it  is  a  proof  of  an  enriching  communion. 
"  No  longer  do  I  call  you  servants,  but  friends,  for 
all  things  that  I  have  heard  from  My  Father,  I  have 
made  known  unto  you."  Is  there  not  something 
tenderly  suggestive  in  the  word  which  tells  us  that 
"  when  they  were  alone.  He  expounded  unto 
them " }  When  He  had  got  His  familiar  friends 
to  Himself,  He  told  them  His  secrets  and  showed 
them  His  covenant.  And  so  it  is  the  saint  who  is 
the  spiritual  expert.  The  merely  intellectual  athlete 
may  be  in  the  remote  suburb  of  truth,  while  the 
illiterate  saint  may  dwell  in  its  very  heart.  There 
are  many  illiterate  saints  who  are  grand  expositors. 
The  Lord  "  shows  them "  His  covenant.  He  un- 
veils to  them  rare  glimpses  of  redemptive  glory, 

177  M 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

and  what  is  hid  from  the  merely  wise  and  prudent 
is  revealed  unto  babes. 

Here,  then,  are  some  of  the  fruits  of  the  God- 
possessed  life.  How  can  we  become  God-haunted  ? 
Let  us  begin  by  deliberately  consulting  God  in  the 
individual  movements  of  our  busy  life.  Let  us 
refer  everything  to  His  decision.  Let  us  make 
Him  a  partner  in  all  our  affairs.  Let  us  begin  by 
distinct  acts  of  volition,  and  what  began  at  first 
with  strained  deliberateness  may  become  at  length 
an  easy-fitting  habit,  and  may  even  ripen  still 
further  into  the  spontaneity  of  an  instinct.  The 
Lord  will  be  "  continually  before  us." 


178 


xxiii* 


The   Heavy   Laden^ 

"Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy-laden, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest.  Take  My  yoke  upon  you  and  learn 
of  Me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and  ye  shall  find 
rest  unto  your  souls." — Matt.  xi.  sS,  29. 

This  exquisite  passage  is  like  a  flower  which  one 
is  almost  afraid  to  touch,  lest  he  should  spoil  the 
delicate  bloom.  Yet  to  disturb  the  flower  may 
awake  a  fragrance  and  distribute  it  to  others.  My 
treatment  shall  be  a  gentle  shaking  of  the  flower, 
if  perchance  its  inherent  fragrance  may  captivate 
our  spiritual  senses  and  allure  us  to  the  heart  of  its 
gracious  truth. 

"  Ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy-ladeny  And  who 
are  the  "  labouring  " .?  There  is  an  intense  force 
and  significance  in  the  word.  We  may  discover 
one  aspect  of  its  wealthy  content  in  the  familiar 
verse,  "  Jesus  being  wearied  with  His  journey,  sat 

179 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's   Way, 

thus  on  the  well."  Perhaps  the  Master  was  employ- 
ing the  figure  of  a  poor  beast  carrying  too  heavy  a 
load,  with  its  heaving  sides  and  hanging  head,  and 
strength  almost  spent ;  a  beast  ready  to  sink.  That 
is  the  inherent  meaning  of  the  word  "  labour."  It 
suggests  a  life  sinking  beneath  a  weight  which  is 
beyond  its  strength.  And  who  are  the  "  heavy 
laden  "  .?  The  figure  is  taken  from  an  over-cargoed 
boat,  a  boat  that  is  burdened  to  the  extent  of  peril, 
almost  to  the  point  of  submergence.  Here,  then  is 
the  force  of  our  Lord's  appeal.  All  ye  that  are  ex- 
1  hausted,  whose  strength  is  well  nigh  spent,  who  are 
carrying  gigantic  weights  which  are  beyond  your 
power,  ye  who  are  sinking  in  the  hopeless  task, 
"  come  unto  Me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest !  "  All  ye 
that  are  like  over-cargoed  boats,  whose  minds  are 
burdened  with  anxieties  and  cares,  or  with  the 
heavy  and  lumbering  traditions  of  men,  and  who 
are  nigh  to  being  swamped,  living  in  perpetual  fear 
of  submersion,  "  come  unto  Me,  and  I  will  give  you 
rest." 

Are  there  such  souls  ?  Are  there  any  sinking, 
sunken,  despairing  hearts  ?  Are  there  over-cargoed 
men  and  women,  beset  by  hungry  waves  ever  seek- 
ing to  engulf  them  ?  Is  life  a  merry  maytime,  a 
sunny  round  of  lightsome  games  in  a  flower-decked 
meadow  ?  Or  is  life  full  of  steep  and  difficult  high- 
ways, hard,  dry,  and  dust-covered  ^     And  is  it  that 

1 80 


The   Heavy   Laden. 

wherever  we  turn  our  eyes,  we  may  see  a  horse 
down,  a  panting  beast  of  burden,  spent  beneath  its 
load  ?  Turn  where  we  will,  do  we  not  gaze  upon 
some  poor  soul  sunk  into  despair,  crushed  into  the 
dry  choking  dust  by  a  weight  that  has  broken  the 
heart  ?  What  shall  we  legislate  for,  a  picnic  or  a  >* 
shambles  ?  If  life  is  a  picnic,  a  Redeemer  is  super- 
fluous, but  if  sin  has  made  life  a  shambles,  if  sorrow 
has  changed  the  old  home  into  a  galling  prison, 
then  we  need  a  Redeemer,  and  He  comes  with  the 
right  word  when  He  says,  "  Come  unto  Me,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest." 

I  think  if  we  could  gather  together  all  the  scat- 
tered army  of  the  sinking  and  the  heavy-laden, 
and  marshal  them  in  ranks,  they  would  form  a  pro- 
cession which  would  surely  melt  the  hardest  heart. 
Who  would  be  found  in  that  vast  procession  > 

One  big  regiment  would  be  formed  of  those  who 
are  sinking  under  the  burdening  sense  of  guilt. 
Does  that  sound  like  fiction  ?  Have  we  never  \ 
heard  of  men  and  women  who  have  spent  the  forces 
of  mind  and  soul,  and  who  are  sinking  in  sheer  ex- 
haustion because  of  the  load  of  guilt  which  they 
drag  after  them  to-day  ?  If,  when  we  have  lived 
to-day,  to-day  were  done,  men  might  walk  with 
airy  step,  but  the  guilt  of  to-day  is  added  to  the 
heavy  baggage -waggon  which  constitutes  our  load, 
and  at  length  men  sink  in  sheer  collapse.       "  Oh, 

i8i 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way, 

full  of  scorpions  is  my  mind."  That  is  an  expres- 
sion of  common  experience.  We  do  a  deed  and  so 
welcome  a  scorpion,  and  the  scorpion  embitters  the 
life  and  racks  it  with  unending  pain.  Here  is 
another  picture  of  the  heavy-laden.  "  And  behold 
a  woman  in  the  city  which  was  a  sinner,  when  she 
knew  that  Jesus  sat  at  meat  in  the  Pharisee's  house, 
came  and  stood  at  His  feet  behind  Him  weeping, 
and  began  to  wash  His  feet  with  tears,  and  did 
wipe  them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head,  and  kissed 
His  feet."  There,  I  say,  is  a  heavy-laden  soul, 
dragging  her  guilt  like  a  galling  chain.  Now  there 
is  no  exhaustion  like  the  exhaustion  created  by  the 
sense  of  guilt.  It  is  accompanied  by  terrible  drain 
and  strain.  Hope  fades  away  from  life  like  the  light 
from  the  evening  sky,  and  there  is  nothing  left  but 
the  burden  of  the  chain. 

"To-morrow  and  to-morrow  and  to-morrow 
Creeps  in  this  petty  pace  from  day  to  day." 

The  outlook  on  the  morrows  is  just  a  monotony  of 
laden  and  hopeless  gloom. 

Now  what  can  we  do  for  such  ?  Men  attempt  to 
alleviate  the  burdens  of  the  guilt-bound  by  little 
fictions.  "  This  is  the  very  painting  of  your  fears." 
Painting !  "  My  worm  dieth  not,  my  fire  is  not 
quenched."  Another  little  fiction  is  tried.  "  Maybe 
there  is  no  God."     No  God !     "  I  feel  His  terrible 

182 


The  Heavy  Laden* 

grip."     Then  a  third  Httle  fiction  may  be  applied. 
"  There  is  no  hell ;  it  is  only  the  creation  of  heated  || 
and  unhealthy  brains."     And  I  think  I  hear  the   y 
reply  of  the  guilt-burdened  :  — "  No  hell  ?     I  am  in    i 
it.     I  am  there ;    I  am  tormented  in  this  flame."    ^ 
No,  there  is  no  emollient  in  these  petty  fictions. 
There  is  only  one  hope  for  those  who  are  sinking 
beneath  the  crushing  burden  of  guilt,  and  that  is 
to  be  found  in  the  infinite  power  of  the  Divine 
forgiveness.     He  not  only  forgives,  but  forgets.     I 
think  in  this  Divine  forgetfulness  is  the  real  luxury 
of  my  Father's  forgiveness.       When  I  remember 
my  sins  it  is  an  unspeakable  joy  to  know  that  the 
Father  has  forgotten  them.     "  I  will  remember  them 
no  more  for  ever."     This  is  the  secret  of  rest. 

Another  regiment  in  the  procession  of  the 
"  labouring  "  soul  would  be  composed  of  those  who 
are  heavy  ladened  with  the  burdensome  mystery 
of  things,  who  are  dragging  along  in  the  mire  of 
fears  and  uncertainties,  and  who  are  looking  about 
for  some  firm  way  of  assurance  and  rest.  A  regi- 
ment of  heavy-ladened  gropers  !  Is  there  anything 
so  exhausting  as  long  and  fruitless  search  ?  JNIen 
who  are  looking  for  work  become  more  exhausted 
than  if  they  were  engaged  in  work.  Work  itself 
provides  an  element  of  rest,  but  looking  for  work  is 
productive  of  nothing  but  exhaustion.  The  man  who 
goes  about  all  day,  seeking  for  work,  turns  home 

183 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

again  at  night,  weary  and  tired  out.  It  is  not  other- 
wise with  men  and  women  who  are  groping  for 
God.  I  think  there  is  a  very  burdened  and  tired 
life  behind  the  Old  Testament  cry,  "  Oh  that  I  knew 
where  I  might  find  Him."  That  cry  represents  a 
labouring  soul  sinking  like  a  spent  and  weary 
beast.  It  is  to  such  as  these  that  the  Master  makes 
His  loving  call,  "  Come  unto  Me,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest." 

But  the  trouble  is  that  men  do  not  search  for 
Him  in  the  right  place.     "  Ye  search  the  Scriptures 

.  .  .  and  ye  will  not  come  unto  Me!'  I  have 
seen  a  tourist  travelHng  through  one  of  the  loveliest 
parts  of  Scotland,  who  was  so  absorbed  in  his  guide- 
book that  he  scarcely  lifted  his  eyes  to  look  at  the 
scenery.  "  Ye  search  the  Scriptures,  and  ye  will 
not  come  unto  Me."  Men  will  search  anywhere  and 
do  anything  except  turn  in  simple  surrender  to  the 
Christ  Himself.  They  weary  themselves  in  intel- 
lectual exploration,  and  they  will  not  lay  their  wills 
in  childlike  simplicity  in  lowly  obeisance  to  the 
Master's  call.  "  The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  with 
them  that  fear  Him."  The  secrets  are  discovered 
in  the  way  of  devotion  and  reverent  fear.  "  Come 
unto  Me,"  ye  sinking,  exhausted  seekers,  "  and  I  will 
give  you  rest." 

Let  me  name  one  other  regiment  in  this  great 
army  of  the  heavy-laden.     How  shall  we  describe 

184 


The   Heavy   Laden. 

them  ?  They  are  burdened  with  rehgiousness.  We  ff 
can  exhaust  a  horse  by  too  much  harness.  We 
can  put  upon  him  so  many  trappings  that  he  has 
no  margin  of  strength  for  real  and  useful  service. 
Harness  is  purposed  to  direct  our  strength  to  the 
most  efficient  use,  but  excessive  harness  may  drain 
the  very  strength  it  was  intended  to  preserve.  It 
is  even  so  in  the  religious  life.  Rules  and  regula- 
tions are  purposed  to  aid  us  in  spiritual  efficiency, 
but  excessive  regulation  may  drain  the  spirit  and 
despoil  it  of  the  power  of  fruitful  ministry.  Rules 
may  become  mere  binding  straps,  which  hold  the 
soul  in  galling  servitude.  That  was  the  condition 
of  many  of  the  Jews  in  the  time  of  our  Lord.  They 
were  "  ladened  with  burdens  grievous  to  be  borne." 
Their  multitudinous  rules  made  their  spiritual  life 
a  bondage,  and  their  souls  were  weary  and  spent. 
I  am  not  sure  that  we  are  altogether  free  from  peril 
even  in  our  own  day.  I  turn  to  Manuals  of  Devo- 
tion, and  I  find  directions  such  as  these  : — "  Forty- 
five  rules  for  the  suppression  of  Jealousy ! " 
"  Twenty  rules  for  the  cultivation  of  Charity !  " 
Surely  regulations  so  multiplied  will  act  like  bur- 
densome harness,  and  will  oppress  the  life  they  were 
purposed  to  help.  Christ  refused  to  give  rules.  He 
would  not  multiply  small  regulations.  "  Till  seven 
times  .? "  "  I  say  not  unto  thee  until  seven  times." 
He  would  lift  the  soul  out  of  the  bondage  of  small 

185 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

literalisms  into  the  large  opportunity  of  the  Spirit. 
"  Come  unto  Me,"  ye  souls  that  are  ladened  with 
regulations  and  trappings,  "  and  I  will  give  you 
rest." 

And  so  rest  is  to  be  gained  by  finding  Christ. 
How  is  it  to  be  retained  ?  How  are  we  to  keep 
our  "  rest  "  fresh  and  healthful  ?  God  does  not 
want  His  bread  to  become  stale ;  He  wants  it  to  be 
ever  palatable  and  good  to  our  taste.  He  does  not 
want  His  "  rest "  to  become  stale,  He  wants  it  to 
remain  fresh  and  sweet  that  I  may  experience  it 
every  day  like  a  newly-discovered  thing.  He  wants 
His  "  gift  "  to  be  a  daily  "  find."  "  Take  My  yoke 
upon  you  and  learn  of  Me  .  .  .  and  ye  shall 
find  rest."  He  wants  His  rest  to  be  so  fresh  in 
experience  that  it  may  surprise  me  every  day  as 
though  it  were  a  thing  I  had  newly  found.  He 
wants  it  to  remain  a  novelty,  and  never  become  a 
commonplace.  He  wants  his  rest  to  be  "  new  every 
morning."  And  this  is  how  it  is  to  be  accom- 
plished :  — "  Take  My  yoke  upon  you  and  learn  of 
Me."  Find  out  the  Master's  way  of  doing  things. 
Dwell  with  Him  and  appropriate  His  Spirit.  Ap- 
1^  proach  everything  from  His  stand-point.  Do  not 
J  confront  anything  in  vanity  and  pride.  Take  up 
all  your  tasks  and  encounter  all  your  sorrows  in 
"  meekness  "  and  "  lowliness  "  ;  and  the  rest  He 
gave  us  when  first  we  turned  to  Him  we  shall  find 

i86 


The  Heavy   Laden, 

in  everything',  and  it  will  daily  occasion  us  a  glad 
and  palatable  surprise.  What  He  gives  us  we  may 
in  "  meekness  "  and  "  lowliness  "  continually  re- 
find  Life  will  be  a  prolonged  spiritual  discovery 
in  the  peace  and  rest  of  God. 


187 


Overflowing   Sympathies* 

**A  certain  centurion." — Luke  vii.  2. 

What  are  my  anticipations  respecting  the  charac- 
ter of  this  Centurion  ?  He  is  an  educated  Roman, 
and  therefore  I  anticipate  that  he  will  be  unsenti- 
mental, severely  secular,  crushing  out  all  inclinations 
to  the  mystical.  He  is  a  Roman  soldier,  and  there- 
fore I  anticipate  that  he  may  be  proud,  domineering, 
hard,  and  unsympathetic.  He  is  a  Roman  slave- 
owner, and  therefore  I  anticipate  that  he  may  be 
self-centred,  supercilious,  inconsiderate,  and  brutal. 
My  anticipations  do  not  shape  for  me  a  rich  and 
enticing  personality.  He  is  a  man  living  in  the 
steely  glare  of  imperial  power,  and  I  expect  to  find 
him  power-benumbed,  and  absorbed  in  the  harden- 
ing materialism  of  the  fleeting  day.  He  will  be  as 
a  land  of  drought  and  barrenness,  sandy,  gritty,  rasp- 
ing, and  unkindly.      Instead  of  all  which,  he  stands 

188 


Overflowing   Sympathies. 

revealed  to  us  as  a  land  of  springs,  musical  with 
streams,  robed  in  soft  and  tender  graces,  and 
abounding  in  grateful  shades.  The  soldier  is 
delicately  sensitive.  The  slave-owner  is  gentle 
and  sympathetic.  The  educated  Roman  is  rev- 
erent and  worshipful.  I  expected  stern  and 
barren  heights,  and  lo !  grass  is  growing  upon  the 
mountains ;  imperial  power  is  associated  with  ten- 
derest  grace.  I  want  to  dwell  for  a  Httle  time  near 
this  commanding  personality,  and  rehearse  some  of 
its  unexpected  wealth. 

Here  are  rivers  of  rich  and  generous  sympathy. 
I  know  their  depth  and  fulness  by  the  barriers  they 
overleap.  Sympathy  is  commonly  confined  within 
severer  conventional  limits.  It  is  often  Hke  a  lake 
in  a  private  park,  and  not  hke  the  stream  which 
weds  together  the  private  park  and  the  village 
green.  It  is  often  the  dialect  of  the  hamlet  rather  than 
the  speech  of  a  people.  It  is  parochial  rather  than 
national,  sectarian  instead  of  universal.  There  are 
stern,  hoary  walls  within  which  its  movements  are 
enclosed,  and  beyond  the  enclosures  the  music  of 
its  influence  is  never  heard.  But  sometimes  the 
waters  rise  in  a  gracious  flood ;  the  imprisoning 
walls  are  submerged ;  the  boundary  marks  of  the 
little  hamlet  are  washed  out,  and  class  and  caste 
and  sect  are  forgotten  in  a  broad  and  fruitful  union. 
Here  is  a  man  whose  sympathies  are  at  the  flood, 

189 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way* 

and  the  obstructing  barriers  have  melted  away. 
Caste  and  class  fall  before  the  impetuous  stream. 
"A  certain  centurion  s  slave  who  was  dear  unto  him!' 
A  slave  who  was  dear  unto  him!  A  servant  who 
was  very  precious  unto  him !  Here  is  one  conven- 
tional barrier  overthrown.  Sympathy  has  paid  no 
heed  to  social  grades,  and  centurion  and  servant 
are  one.  The  servant's  ailment  is  the  master's  grief. 
I  need  not  proclaim  how  stern  and  threatening  is 
the  barrier  which  commonly  intervenes  between 
class  and  class,  and  cleaves  society  into  alienated 
and  unsympathetic  divisions.  We  speak  of  master 
and  man,  of  mistress  and  servant,  but  the  "  and  "  too 
frequently  represents  no  vital  conjunction.  It  is  a 
dead  ligature,  a  kind  of  doll's  arm  connection.  If  it 
be  wrenched  there  is  no  pain  ;  if  it  be  bruised  there 
is  no  bleeding.  But  here  was  a  conjunction  between 
master  and  servant  made  out  of  living  nerves,  sen- 
sitive sympathies,  and  the  pains  and  joys  of  the 
one  thrilled  and  throbbed  into  the  live  mind  and 
heart  of  the  other.  Their  conjunction  was  not  mere 
connection,  it  was  a  fellowship ;  it  was  not  an  ex- 
pedient, it  was  a  Hfe.  They  were  members  one  of 
another. 

Mark  the  further  advance  of  the  gracious  flood. 
"  He  loveth  our  nation !  "  What !  the  Roman  loving 
the  Jew  ?  Here  is  another  hoary  rampart  over- 
thrown.    "  He  loveth  our  nation."       Racial  limits 

190 


Overflowing  Sympathies. 

are  overpassed.  A  citizen  of  imperial  Rome,  nur- 
tured in  the  glowing  ambitions  of  a  world-wide 
dominion,  finding  room  in  his  sympathies  for  the 
undistinguished  and  unattractive  people  of  the 
Jews!  That  is  a  type  of  sentiment  by  no  means 
common  and  exuberant.  Patriotism  is  usually 
sternly  self-contained  and  exclusive.  Its  manifesta- 
tions, beyond  its  own  boundaries,  are  too  commonly 
selfish  and  soured.  It  is  like  the  juices  of  many 
trees,  which,  when  they  escape  from  their  own  en- 
veloping bark,  congeal  into  stiffness  and  bitterness. 
The  cup  of  patriotism  rarely  flows  over  into  cosmo- 
politanism. I  am  not  quite  sure  that  even  we 
English  people  can  claim  a  very  exuberant  love  for 
other  nations  of  the  world.  Our  sympathies  run 
broad  and  deep  among  the  English-speaking 
peoples,  and  it  is  well  and  good,  but  I  do  not  know 
that  their  exclusiveness  is  much  vaster,  and  I  am 
perfectly  sure  they  do  not  include  the  Jews.  Where 
is  the  Jew  loved  ?  And,  yet,  let  us  remember  that 
in  all  essential  characteristics  he  was  the  same  in 
the  time  of  the  Master  as  in  our  own  day.  If  he 
be  repellent  now,  he  was  equally  repellent  then.  If 
he  be  mean  and  grasping,  if  his  name  has  become  a 
synonym  for  treachery,  the  dark  degeneracy  has  not 
occurred  in  the  Christian  centuries.  He  was  what 
he  is,  and  the  centurion  loved  him.  Profound 
sympathy  discovered  his  wealth,  discerned  the  lovely 

191 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way» 

even  among  the  base,  sought  fellowship  with  the 
lovely,  and  loved  it.  Roman  patriotism  did  not 
congeal  into  Roman  pride,  but  flowed  out  in  dis- 
cerning sympathy,  paying  no  heed  to  racial  limits, 
and  finding  home  and  sustenance  in  the  universal 
good. 

Can  we  trace  the  sympathy  into  yet  finer  issues  ? 
"  Himself  built  us  our  synagogue."  A  Roman  dis- 
cerning the  beauty  in  the  worship  of  the  Jew. 
"  Himself  built  us  our  synagogue."  Ecclesiastical 
boundaries  overflowed.  It  is  a  welcome  sign  of 
broadening  and  enriching  vision  when  we  begin 
to  take  sympathetic  interest  in  the  religious  aspira- 
tions and  worships  of  others.  It  is  a  sure  sign  of 
dwarfed  and  crippled  life  when  religious  interests 
are  self-contained  and  exclusive,  when  we  cannot 
see  the  beauties  in  another  mode  of  worship,  nor 
find  a  single  foothold  for  kinship  and  communion. 
But  our  sectarian  fences  are  so  emphatic  and  pro- 
nounced that  it  is  difftcult  for  our  sympathies  to  get 
beyond  them.  Our  boundaries  are  so  apt  to  be 
made  of  spiked  railings  and  barbed  wire,  instead  of 
green  and  perfumed  hedge-rows.  When  sympathy 
is  refined,  kinships  are  discerned,  and  even  where 
there  is  much  that  is  alien,  we  shall  discover  much 
that  is  common.  Here,  then,  is  the  breadth  and 
depth  of  the  Centurion's  sympathy.  In  its  gracious 
comprehensiveness  social  barriers  are  submerged, 

192 


Overflowing   Sympathies* 

and  servant  and  master  wedded  in  vital  union,  racial 
limits  are  submerged,  and  peoples  of  varied  char- 
acteristics united  in  fruitful  fellowship ;  ecclesias- 
tical boundaries  are  submerged,  and  communion 
established  with  the  wealth  of  an  apparently  alien 
faith.  "  His  servant  was  dear  unto  him."  "  He 
loveth  our  nation."  "  Himself  built  us  a  syna- 
gogue." 

Now  I  am  not  surprised  to  find  that  a  man  of 
such  spacious  sympathy  is  also  a  man  of  profound 
humility.  That  is  not  a  mere  coincidence,  it  is  an 
inevitable  moral  consequence.  Sympathy  is  crea- 
tive of  humility.  Large  sympathy  ;  deep  humility ! 
No  sympathy ;  colossal  self-conceit !  Sympathy 
means  association,  vision,  comprehension,  outlook. 
Large  sympathy  implies  large  spaciousness  and  far- 
reaching  outlook.  Absence  of  sympathy  means 
absence  of  vision,  lack  of  space,  life  confined  to  one's 
own  court-yard.  Now  a  little  thing  looks  big  when 
it  is  set  in  a  small  room.  The  piece  of  furniture 
which  looked  dwarfed  in  the  warehouse  assumes 
quite  respectable  proportions  when  set  in  the  nar- 
rower surroundings  of  your  own  home.  If  you 
want  a  little  thing  to  look  big,  put  it  into  a  small 
room.  A  fly  is  conspicuous  on  a  saucer,  it  is  lost 
on  a  lawn.  A  man  of  no  sympathy,  of  no  spacious 
vision,  is  set  in  a  small  place,  and  self  bulks  big, 
and  becomes  possessed  by  a  swelling  conceit.     But 

193  N 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way* 

when  self  is  seen  in  large  associations,  in  wide  social 
spaces,  when  comparisons  are  disclosed  by  broader 
fields,  then  self  assumes  accurate  proportions,  and 
self-conceit  subsides  into  a  healthy  self-esteem. 
Yes,  sympathy  is  the  key  to  life's  proportions,  and 
therefore  the  parent  of  humility.  I  am  not  surprised 
therefore  that  a  man  whose  sympathies  went  out  to 
the  slave,  to  foreign  peoples,  and  to  ahen  sects, 
should  manifest  a  character  absolutely  devoid  of 
self-conceit,  and  characterised  by  profound  humil- 
ity. I  am  not  surprised  to  hear  him  say,  and  I  am 
sure  he  means  it,  "  /  am  not  worthy  that  Thou 
shouldest  come  under  my  roof,  neither  thought  my- 
self worthy  to  come  unto  Thee."  Where  sympathy 
abides,  humility  dwells. 

Sympathy  is  here  ;  humility  is  here ;  then  you 
have  got  a  fine  discernment.  When  you  have  in  a 
life  a  broad  surface  of  sympathy,  allied  with  a  deep 
and  fruitful  humility,  you  have  obtained  a  sensitive 
plane  of  spirit,  which,  like  the  photographer's  most 
exquisite  plate,  will  register  the  finest  impressions 
of  light.  Sympathy  and  humility  are  the  conditions 
of  moral  and  spiritual  discernment.  Let  these  be 
absent,  and  discernment  and  apprehension  are 
blunted  and  impaired.  Without  sympathy  and 
humility  life  is  hardened,  and  a  thousand  mystic 
visitors  may  knock  at  our  doors  unheeded  and 
ignored.     But  with  their  presence  there  is  a  fine 

194 


Overflowing   Sympathies^ 

alertness  of  surface  which  instinctively  discerns  the 
approach  of  the  highest,  and  tremblingly  thrills  to  its 
touch.  "The  humble  shall  hear  thereof  and  be 
glad."  "  Shall  hear,"  and  shall  know.  How  love 
can  interpret  a  footfall !  "  That  is  my  husband 
coming !  "  "  How  do  you  know  ?  "  "  Oh,  I  know 
his  step  ;  I  know  the  way  he  opens  the  door."  The 
interpreting  discernment  of  an  alert  and  sacrificing 
affection !  "  The  humble  shall  hear !  "  They  shall 
know  the  Lord's  footfall  when  He  is  about.  They 
shall  know  His  knock  when  He  taps  at  the  door  of 
their  life.  I  do  not  wonder  that  this  humble,  sym- 
pathetic centurion  heard  the  footfall  of  an  unearthl) 
step.  I  do  not  wonder  that  he  discerned  the  un- 
commonness  of  the  Christ.  I  do  not  wonder  that 
his  spirit  thrilled  at  the  mystic  Presence,  as  the 
leaves  of  the  silver  birch  thrill  in  the  light  wind 
which  stirs  with  the  dawn.  "  I  am  not  worthy  that 
Thou  shouldest  come  !  "  "  Neither  thought  I  myself 
worthy  to  come  unto  Thee !  "  "  Thou !  Thee  !  " 
He  discerned  the  majesty  of  the  wonderful  Pre- 
sence, and  his  soul  fell  prostrate  in  adoring  homage 
and  awe.  If  we  wish  to  discern  the  King  when 
He  is  about,  we  must  keep  our  hearts  soft  and 
sympathetic.  We  must  exercise  our  pities.  We 
must  send  our  hospitable  thoughts  over  unfre- 
quented fields.     We  must  Hve  in  large  spaces,  in 

195 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

search  of  ever-widening  fellowship,  and  in  the  hum- 
bleness of  mind  begotten  of  hungry  sympathy,  we 
shall  discern  the  King  in  His  beauty,  and  shall  most 
assuredly  love  His  appearing. 


196 


Strife   and  Vain    Glory* 

*'  Let  nothing  be  done  through  strife  or  vain-glory ;  but  in 
lowliness  of  mind  let  each  esteem  other  better  than  them- 
selves."— Philippians  it.  J, 

"  Let  nothing  be  done  through  strife  or  vain- 
glory." Whom  is  the  Apostle  addressing  ?  His 
words  seem  applicable  to  some  violent  political 
party,  or  to  some  ambitious  and  selfish  state.  They 
appear  to  be  descriptive  of  the  ways  of  the  world, 
and  yet  they  are  pointed  at  a  Christian  Church. 
"  Let  nothing  be  done  through  strife  and  vain- 
glory." Is  the  counsel  irrelevant  ?  Is  the  danger 
imaginary  ?  Do  not  "  Church  "  and  "  Strife  "  ap- 
pear quite  incongruous  }  I  should  have  thought  that 
when  the  fire-brand  of  strife  sought  introduction 
into  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  it  would  have  been 
extinguished  at  the  very  threshold.  And  yet  the 
Apostle  suggests  that  even  in  the  Church  it  may 

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Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way* 

find  sympathetic  material.  There  is  so  much  of  the 
world  still  in  the  Church,  that  worldly  fires  have  to 
be  watched.  Outside  the  Church,  in  the  days  of 
the  Apostle,  men  were  clamorous  and  proud.  They 
lusted  for  authority  They  stretched  out  both 
hands  for  power.  Mastery  was  the  only  recognised 
>  human  dignity.  Humility  was  not  yet  canonised 
as  a  grace.  Jesus  of  Nazareth  had  laid  the  hand  of 
consecration  upon  the  servile  virtues,  and  had  pro- 
nounced the  beauty  of  humility  and  the  beauty  of 
sacrifice  and  patience  and  poverty  of  spirit,  but  in 
the  loud  ambitious  streets  of  the  world  these  were 
still  only  the  badges  of  the  slave.  Men  coveted 
command.  They  thirsted  for  personal  triumph. 
The  high  head  and  the  stiff  neck  were  the  physical 
types  of  an  unbendingness  which  most  men  craved. 
The  slave  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  social  grades, 
and  all  that  was  characteristic  of  the  slave  belonged 
to  the  same  plane.  Humility  was  degradation  ;  to 
be  servant  of  all  was  to  be  an  outcast.  That  was 
the  spirit  of  the  world  in  the  Apostle's  time,  as  it  is 
the  spirit  of  the  world  to-day.  Now  this  spirit 
steals  into  the  Church.  The  fog  that  fills  the 
streets  of  the  city,  obtrudes  in  the  sanctuary.  The 
lust  of  power  burns  in  the  Christian  worker.  Ambi- 
^  tion  for  personal  victory  possesses  the  heart  of  the 
professed  soldier  of  the  Cross.  The  spirit  of  strife 
enters  into  the  messenger  of  peace.     Men  do  Chris- 

198 


Strife   and   Vain    Glory* 

tian  work  because  impelled  by  strife.  Men  persist  \^ 
in  Christian  service  because  impelled  by  vain-glory. 
Strife  and  vain-glory,  the  powers  of  the  world,  be- 
come motive  powers  in  the  Kingdom  of  God.  That 
is  the  pity  of  it,  and  the  tragedy  of  it,  that  a  king- 
dom purposed  for  the  destruction  of  self  can  be  used 
for  the  fattening  of  self ;  a  kingdom  established  for 
the  annihilation  of  worldliness  used  for  its  enthrone- 
ment. The  gist  of  the  whole  matter  is  this.  It  is 
possible  to  make  a  worldly  convenience  of  the 
Christ,  to  regard  Him  as  an  agent  in  the  attain- 
ment of  mere  party  ends,  and  to  use  Him  with  a 
single  eye  for  our  own  glory  It  is  against  this 
insidious  and  imminent  peril  that  the  Apostle  warns 
us  when  he  counsels  us,  in  all  the  varied  work  of  the 
Church,  to  "  let  nothing  be  done  through  strife  or 
vain-glory" 

What  we  have  before  us  is  a  warning  against  the 
obtrusion  of  self  in  Christian  service.  Now  the 
Apostle  says  that  this  obtrusion  may  reveal  itself  in 
one  of  two  shapes,  in  strife  or  vain-glory  I  think  it 
will  be  well,  in  the  place  of  both  these  words  to  sub- 
stitute more  modem  equivalents,  which  will  enable 
us  to  catch  the  Apostle's  thought  What  did  the 
Apostle  mean  by  strife  I  Party-spirit.  What  did 
he  mean  by  vain-glory }  Personal  vanity  "  Let  | 
nothing  be  done  through  party-spirit  or  personal  ' 
vanity."      Party-spirit!       Personal  vanity!     Those 

199 


Brooks   by   the  Traveller's  Way, 

are  the  two  guises  in  which  self  is  apt  to  intrude 
into  Church  Hfe  and  crowd  out  the  Christ.     "  Let 
nothing  be  done  through  party-spirit."       What  is 
party-spirit  ?       I  don't  think  we  need  pause  to  in- 
quire as  to  the  pecuHar  character  of  the  party-spirit 
which  broke  out  in  the  apostoHc  Church.     It  admits 
of  a  sufficiently  precise  definition,  which  has  rele- 
vancy to  all  time.     Party-spirit  is  that  which  seeks 
the  luxury  of  a  majority  more  than  the  enthrone- 
ment of  a  truth.       It  aims  at  winning  a  contest 
rather  than  at  advancing  a  cause.       It  works  for 
sectarian  triumph  more  than  for  spiritual  growth. 
We  are  all  agreed  that  this  prevails  in  the  warfare 
of  the  world.     Political  contests  are  often  struggles 
in  which  the  passion  for  numerical  victory  obscures 
the  interests  of  truth.     The  declaration  of  the  poll 
is  for  many  men  the  announcement  of  the  goal. 
Their  interest   centered  in  the  figures,   and   their 
gladsome  shout  is  the  symbol  of  gratified  strife. 
That  is  the  very  genius  of  a  pernicious  party-spirit 
— struggle  above  which  there  is  no  high  sky,  and 
before  which   there  is  no   distant  and   beckoning 
horizon ;  struggle  for  the  petty  triumphs  of  a  pass- 
ing day.     There  must  be  parties,  but  it  is  possible 
to  have  parties  without  a  pernicious  party-spirit 
There  may  be  many  parties,  and  yet  all  be  for  the 
State;    the  party-life  dominated  by  a  larger  life; 
the  sectional  victory  sought  for  in  the  interests  of 

200 


Strife   and   Vain   Glory^ 

righteousness  and  truth.  It  is  even  so  in  the  Church 
of  the  Hving"  God.  Party-spirit  is  in  the  Church 
when  the  Christian  fights  harder  for  a  sectarian 
triumph,  than  for  the  reign  of  the  Lord.  There  are 
some  members  of  the  Christian  Church  who  are 
never  to  be  found  in  the  battle-field,  except  when 
the  struggle  is  an  unfortunate  contest  between  the 
Christian  sects.  They  revel  in  sectarian  strife.  A 
fight  stirs  them  to  the  depths.  Some  election  will 
find  them  on  the  field,  but  the  declaration  of  the 
poll  marks  the  movement  of  their  retirement,  and 
they  are  not  to  be  found  in  the  ranks  when  the 
immediate  contest  is  the  incessant  fight  with  all  the 
powers  of  ill.  I  say  that  is  the  party-spirit  the 
Apostle  deplores,  the  spirit  which  enlists  for  a  sect, 
but  not  for  the  Lord,  which  works  feverishly  for  a 
sectarian  victory,  and  is  inclined  to  forget  the  august 
interests  of  our  God.  Sects  there  must  be  !  Let  us 
preserve  them  from  this  injurious  party-spirit 
Parties  there  may  be  ;  our  spirit  need  not  be  partial. 
We  can  serve  a  party  in  the  spirit  of  wholeness,  in 
the  spirit  of  holiness,  a  spirit  which  seeks  the  exalta- 
tion of  all  truth  and  beauty,  by  the  enthronement 
of  our  Lord.  "  Let  nothing  be  done  through  party- 
spirit." 

"  Or  vain-glory,"  personal  vanity !  A  man  can  be 
a  sect  to  himself ;  he  can  be  a  party  of  one.  He 
can  seek  his  own  triumphs,  his  own  majorities.  Such 

20  [ 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way» 

a  man  begins  counting  everything  from  himself, 
but  the  tragedy  is  that  a  man  who  begins  by  count- 
ing himself  as  "  number  one,"  never  gets  as  far  as 
"  number  two  ;  "  with  "  number  one  "  the  numera- 
tion ends.  "  Personal  vanity,"  a  life  swollen  with 
pride.  The  eyes  are  so  "  enclosed  in  fat "  that 
"  number  two  "  is  never  seen.  "  Personal  vanity," 
that  is  the  obtrusion  we  have  to  fear  and  beware. 
Now  the  Apostle  declares  that  this  spirit  of  per- 
sonal vanity  may  obtrude  into  the  Church.  Nay, 
he  declares  that  men  and  women  will  come  into  the 
Church  in  order  to  feed  it.  They  will  use  the  holy 
ministries  of  the  Church  to  fatten  self.  We  can 
bow  our  heads  to  pray  through  sheer  personal 
vanity.  We  can  engage  in  services  of  philanthropy 
through  sheer  personal  vanity.  We  can  preach 
Christ  crucified  through  sheer  personal  vanity.  That 
is  stern,  hard  and  horrible,  not  as  fiction  but  as 
fact,  and  we  shall  do  well  to  face  it.  I  can  be  in 
the  Church  of  Christ  like  a  huge  sponge,  a  mere 
agent  of  suction,  gathering  and  retaining  solely  to 
increase  the  weight  of  self.  Now,  Christian  folk 
are  not  intended  to  be  sponges.  They  are  purposed 
to  be  channels,  not  prisons  of  possession,  but  agents 
of  transmission  ;  not  bolstering  up  a  personal  vanity, 
but  distributing  a  glory  over  all  the  fellowships  of 
the  redeemed.  Our  prayers  must  not  be  personal 
sponges,  nor  our  spirit,  nor  our  services,  nor  any  of 

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Strife   and  Vain   Glory* 

the  manifold  ministries  of  the  Church's  life.  Our 
energies  must  be  otherwise  and  other-born,  not 
prompted  either  by  strife  or  vain-glory,  by  party- 
spirit  or  by  personal  vanity,  but  for  the  good  of  our 
fellows  and  the  glory  of  our  God. 

The  warning  against  self-obtrusion  is  followed  by 
a  declaration  as  to  how  the  obtrusive  self  may  be 
suppressed.  Here  is  transition  from  egotism  to 
altruism.  "  But  in  lowliness  of  mind  let  each  esteem 
other  better  than  themselves."  It  is  the  lowly  spirit 
which  discerns  things  in  their  true  proportion  and 
order.  The  lowly  spirit  sets  me  in  the  right  atti- 
tude, and  makes  it  possible  for  me  to  obtain  accu- 
racy of  vision.  People  who  are  high-minded,  in  the 
sense  of  being  supercilious,  "  look  down "  upon 
others.  People  who  are  lowly-minded  "  look  up  " 
to  others,  and  discover  their  wealth  and  grace.  It 
is  the  lowly  place  that  gives  us  the  point  of  vision 
for  the  spacious  out-look.  That  may  appear  to  be 
a  contradiction,  but  it  is  one  of  the  common  ex- 
periences of  the  spiritual  life.  There  is  much  food 
for  meditation  in  the  familiar  phrase  "  The  Valley 
of  Vision."  I  could  have  readily  understood  it  had 
it  been  "  The  Mount  of  Vision,"  but  to  have  visions 
in  valleys,  to  have  panoramas  breaking  upon  one's 
gaze  in  the  place  of  humility,  excites  doubt  and  sur- 
prise. But  the  Scriptures  abound  in  the  suggestion. 
"  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,"   those  who   are 

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Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

furthest  removed  from  pride,  who  are  conscious  of 
their  poverty,  who  are  more  impressed  by  their 
sense  of  spiritual  want  than  with  their  spiritual  pos- 
sessions ;  "  for  theirs  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 
Whole  countries  of  spiritual  benedictions  become 
their  inheritance.  They  pass  from  discovery  to  dis- 
covery in  the  realm  of  knowledge  and  grace.  Not 
least  among  the  discoveries  which  are  made  are  the 
discoveries  of  our  fellows.  The  proud  man  cannot 
know  his  fellow-man.  It  is  when  we  are  lowly  that 
we  discover  his  worth.  We  esteem  him,  we  give 
him  priority  over  ourselves,  we  are  willing  and  de- 
sirous that  he  should  take  the  first  place. 

There  is  no  way  by  which  we  can  obtain  this 
gracious  disposition  except  by  holding  intimate 
companionship  with  Christ.  In  His  presence  "  the 
mountains  and  hills  are  made  low."  In  the  light 
and  warmth  of  His  presence  the  ice  of  false  pride 
melts  away. 


204 


XXVI. 

'*Ht  Calleth.,..by  Name/' 

**  He  calleth  His  own  sheep   by  name,  and   leadeth   them 
out."— yohn  X.  tit. 

"  He  calleth  His  own  sheep  by  name."  The  unit 
is  not  lost  in  the  indiscriminate  mass.  The  colour 
of  a  personahty  is  not  merged  in  the  monotonous 
grey  of  the  multitude.  The  personalities  are  dis- 
tinguished. "  He  calleth  His  own  sheep  by  name." 
He  never  mistakes  one  for  another.  We  are  not  so 
much  alike  that  we  are  treated  as  crowds.  We  are 
not  repetitions  of  a  type,  uniform  articles  cast  in  a 
common  and  unvarying  mould.  We  are  individuali- 
ties, every  one  original  and  unique,  and  bearing  in- 
dividual characteristics  and  name.  "  He  calleth  His 
own  sheep  by  name."  He  never  confounds  Thomas 
and  John,  or  Peter  and  Nathaniel,  or  Mary  and 
Martha.  Each  name  suggests  its  special  problem, 
and  requires  peculiar  ministry.     The  ministries  are 

205 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way^ 

varied  and  unequal,  and  in  their  inequality  are  to  be 
found  their  grace  and  justice.  In  inequality  is 
found  the  rarest  equity.  Equal  bonds  may  mean 
unequal  strain.  Equal  loads  given  to  a  dray- 
horse  and  a  carriage  -  horse  impose  quite  un- 
equal burdens.  One  horse  leaps  to  a  sharp  word, 
while  another  only  responds  to  a  heavy  lash.  You 
create  the  same  pain  by  apparently  unequal  punish- 
ment. Therefore  it  is  not  similarity  and  equality  of 
treatment  that  we  require,  but  treatment  guided  by 
the  discernment  of  the  individual  need.  It  is,  there- 
fore, a  heartening  evangel  which  comes  to  us  from 
the  Word  of  God,  and  which  tells  us  that  the  Lord 
is  acquainted  with  the  individual  need,  and  that 
from  Him  we  receive  the  inequalities  of  mercy  and 
grace.  "  He  knew  what  was  in  man."  "  I  know 
My  sheep."  "  He  calleth  His  own  sheep  by  name." 
"  He  calleth  his  own  sheep  by  name."  But  this 
was  said  of  Him  in  the  day  of  His  gracious  travail, 
when  He  walked  the  heavy  road  of  pilgrimage  and 
pain.  This  was  spoken  in  the  day  of  His  humilia- 
tion, when  He  companied  with  men,  when  He 
visited  their  lowly  dwellings,  and  moved  amid  their 
common  haunts,  and  sympathetically  knew  the 
needs  of  the  individual  heart.  "  He  calleth  His  own 
sheep  by  name."  Will  it  be  true  of  Him  when  He 
rises  again  on  the  third  day,  clothed  in  resurrection 
glory  ?     In  His  humiliation  He  knew  the  individual 

206 


''He  Calleth,...by  Name/' 

heart;  will  exaltation  create  dimness  and  aliena- 
tion ?  The  gospel  of  my  text  is  found  amid  the 
homely  and  companionable  conditions  of  chapter  x. 
But  if  we  pass  on  through  the  deepening  twilight 
and  the  hastening  night,  on  through  the  darkness 
of  chapter  xix.,  by  the  terror  of  Calvary  and  the 
blackness  of  the  tomb,  on  to  the  strange  dawning  of 
the  Easter  light,  which  breaks  in  chapter  xx.,  shall 
we  find  Him  changed  ?  When  the  pilgrimage  is 
trod,  and  death  and  the  grave  are  left  behind,  when 
the  humiliation  is  ended,  and  glory  has  begun,  will 
He  be  the  same  companionable,  discerning,  sym- 
pathetic presence  ?  Will  He  any  longer  know  the 
individual  life  ? 

The   same  Loving   Recognition   after  the 
Resurrection* 

I  turn  to"  the  wonderful  record,  with  the  music  of 
my  text  ringing  in  my  heart,  "  He  calleth  His  own 
sheep  by  name,"  ajid  half-tremblingly  I  listen  to 
His  speech  on  the  resurrection  morn.  "  Mary  stood 
without  at  the  sepulchre  weeping  .  .  .  Jesus 
saith  unto  her,  Mary!  "  "  He  calleth  His  sheep  by 
name."  It  is  the  same  Master.  And  here  is 
Thomas,  trembling  with  misgiving,  half  stunned  by 
the  grim  and  unforgettable  realities  which  he  had 
seen  on  Calvary,  with  his  hope  buried  in  a  sealed 
tomb,  and  despairing  of  any  sweet  and  winsome 

207 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way. 

morrow.  "  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Thomas,  reach 
hither  thy  finger."  "  He  calleth  His  own  sheep  by 
name."  It  is  the  same  gracious  look.  And  here  is 
another  of  the  prominent  figures  of  the  resurrection 
days,  Simon  Peter,  consumed  by  self-distrust,  fear- 
ful of  vows  and  confessions,  wanting  to  proclaim  his 
love,  and  yet  half  afraid  to  look  at  the  One  he 
loved.  "  Jesus  saith  unto  him,  Simon,  .... 
lovest  thou  Me  1 "  "  He  calleth  His  own  sheep  by 
name."  It  is  the  same  unchanging  and  discerning 
sympathy.  "  Mary !  "  "  Thomas !  "  "  Simon !  "  It 
is  the  same  Jesus,  now  clothed  in  the  incorruptible, 
ministering  to  the  individual  life,  applying  His 
grace  and  comfort  to  the  individual  heart.  "  Mary !  " 
There  He  is  consoling  a  mourner.  "  Thomas !  " 
There  He  is  ministering  to  a  doubter.  "  Simon !  " 
There  He  is  healing  and  restoring  a  denier.  "  I 
know  my  sheep."  "Mary!  "  There  the  resurrec- 
tion Lord  is  ministering  to  the  pain  of  bereavement. 
"  Thomas !  "  There  the  resurrection  Lord  is  min- 
istering to  the  pain  of  misgiving.  "  Simon !  "  There 
the  resurrection  Lord  is  ministering  to  the  pain  of 
treachery  and  denial.  Is  there  not  something  beau- 
tiful and  fruitfully  helpful  in  a  record  which  tells  us 
that  the  wealth  of  the  resurrection  ministry  was 
given  to  the  individual  heart  ?  The  glorified  Lord 
made  His  way  to  the  three  dark  lanes  in  human  life 
— to  bereavement,  to  misgiving,  to  self-contempt, 

208 


''He   Calleth . , •  •  by   Name/' 

and  He  sought  to  bring  into  each  of  the  black  ways 
the  soft  warm,  cheery  Hght  of  the  Easter  morn. 
"  Mary !  "  "  Thomas !  "  "  Simon !  "  He  called 
the  troubled  sheep  by  name  and  led  them  out. 

(i)  "  Mary  stood  without  at  the  sepulchre,  weep- 
ing, and  as  she  wept,  .  .  .  Mary !  "  She  knew 
the  tone!  She  had  heard  it  too  often  to  mistake 
it  for  another.  How  had  she  learnt  the  tone.? 
"  Mary  Magdalene,  out  of  whom  the  Lord  had  cast 
seven  devils."  She  had  heard  the  voice  then,  a 
commanding  voice,  speaking  in  the  midnight  of  her 
bondage.  When  her  freedom  was  gained,  when  the 
devils  had  been  expelled,  she  heard  the  voice  then, 
a  soothing,  heartening  voice,  speaking  in  the  soft, 
quiet  dawn  of  her  emancipation.  And  ever  since 
the  great  enfranchisement,  she  had  lived  in  the 
light  and  music  of  His  gracious  speech.  And  now 
at  the  grave  she  could  not  mistake  the  familiar  tone. 
"  She  turned  and  said,  Rabboni ;  which  is  to  say, 
Master !  "  All  this  is  not  without  its  suggestion. 
If  I  want  to  be  calmed  by  my  Lord's  voice  in  the 
black  crisis,  I  must  familiarise  myself  with  its  tones 
in  the  common  day.  The  mother  hushes  her  little 
one  in  the  dark  midnight,  with  tones  which  have 
become  familiar  in  the  light.  It  is  possible  for  one 
to  be  in  the  chilling  midnight,  and  not  to  hear  the 
tones  of  the  speaking  Lord !  "  Ye  therefore  hear 
them  not,  because  ye  are  not  of  God"     "  My  sheep 

209  o 


Brooks   by  the  Traveller's  Way* 

hear  My  voice."  I  want  to  know  the  voice  in  the 
crisis !  Happy  the  soul  that  can  say,  "  I  heard  the 
voice  when  He  called  me  out  of  darkness  into  light. 
I  heard  it  on  my  birthday !  And  I  shall  know  the 
tones  again  if  He  speaks  when  I  stand  by  an  open 
grave."  Happy  the  soul  that  is  so  familiar  with  the 
voice,  that  it  cannot  mistake  its  music  when  the 
calm  sunny  day  has  passed  into  a  troubled  and 
tempestuous  night 

"Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Mary!"  What  did  the 
name  mean  when  spoken  by  the  Lord  on  that  first 
day  of  the  week  .^  She  was  searching  for  death ; 
she  had  met  life !  Perhaps  the  last  time  He  had 
called  her  Mary  was  when  He  was  toiling  up  Cal- 
vary's slope  to  the  cross.  And  between  then  and 
now  there  had  been  the  crucifixion,  the  death,  the 
burial.  And  now  again,  "  Mary."  Then  death  was 
no  blind  alley,  no  impassable  terminus,  but  a  high- 
way and  a  thoroughfare !  She  had  seen  Him  enter, 
had  seen  Him  emerge,  and  now  the  tones  of  His 
voice  confirmed  it.  "  Mary !  "  I  think  her  concep- 
tion of  death  was  transfigured.  Death  is  so  impe- 
rious, its  sovereignty  appears  to  be  so  absolutely 
unconditioned.  When  we  watch  the  dying,  the 
transient  is  so  obtrusive.  We  are  held  by  the 
spectacle  of  the  failing  strength,  the  graspless  mem- 
ory, the  dim  discernment,  the  scanty  breath ;  the 
brief  flickering  of  the  fading  light ;  the  expiration  ; 

2IO 


'^He   Calleth . . , .  by   Name/' 

the  awful  stillness.  It  all  appears  so  final,  with 
nothing  suggestive  of  new  beginnings  and  stronger 
days.  But  to  hear  the  once-dead  and  buried  Lord 
say  "  Mary,"  is  to  have  opened  before  one  the  gates 
of  a  glorious  hope !  "  If  He  .  .  .  emerged  !  " 
Then  from  that  mighty  premise  I  tremblingly  draw 
a  mighty  inference,  which  He  Himself  has  con- 
firmed and  justified  in  His  own  word.  "  If  He," 
.  .  .  then  I  and  mine !  "  Now  is  Christ  risen 
from  the  dead,  and  become  the  firstfruits  of  them 
that  slept" 

The  Ministry   of  Retrospect. 

Is  it  not  a  gracious  thing  that  the  witness  of  the 
risen  Lord  is  first  of  all  given  to  the  weeping 
woman,  bending  near  a  grave }  How  much  we 
need  it!  It  is  a  dark  lane,  and  the  cold  wind  that 
sweeps  across  it  blows  out  every  earthly  light!  I 
am  grateful  for  the  gift  of  memory,  and  the  gracious 
ministry  of  retrospect.  To  be  able  to  sit  in  the 
twilight,  before  the  lamps  are  lit,  and  just  think 
about  him,  and  about  her,  is  to  exercise  a  kindly 
gift  of  God.  To  live  it  all  over  again  in  memory, 
from  the  wooing  days  to  the  ministry  of  the  last 
sickness,  and  the  sacred  fellowship  of  the  declining 
day!  It  is  very  good  of  God  to  permit  us  to  recall 
it  all,  to  canonise  our  loved  ones  in  the  soft,  trans- 
figuring light  of  retrospect.     But  retrospect  may  be 

211 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way* 

imprisoning ;  memory  may  paralyse  me  by  vam 
regrets.  If  in  the  pensive  twilight,  while  I  recall 
my  yesterdays,  I  hear  the  risen  Lord  call  my  name, 
the  call  awakes  the  thought  of  a  wondrous  to- 
morrow !  When  He  calls  my  name,  He  calls  my 
loved  ones  too,  and  my  restrospect  is  transmuted 
into  a  glorious  hope.  My  evening  time  is  no  longer 
a  mere  lingering  over  a  sunset,  but  an  eager  watch- 
ing for  the  dawn.  My  "  good-bye "  is  softened 
into  "  good-night,"  and  I  await  the  morrow  of  a 
brighter  and  more  spacious  day.  "  Thanks  be  unto 
God,  who  has  given  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ." 

The   Recognition  of  Thomas* 

(2)  "  After  eight  days  again  His  disciples  were 
within,  and  Thomas  with  them." 

"  And  Thomas  with  them."  I  am  glad  that 
Thomas  was  with  them.  I  am  glad  he  was  per- 
mitted to  retain  his  companionship.  I  am  glad 
they  had  not  cast  him  from  their  fellowship  because 
he  was  a  sceptic.  He  must  have  greatly  wounded 
his  fellow-disciples  when  he  so  stoutly  disbelieved 
what  their  experience  had  witnessed  and  confirmed. 
But  they  retained  him  in  their  fellowship.  It  is  a 
beautiful  glimpse  of  their  broadening  tolerance  and 
their  comprehensive  sympathy.  I  think  it  was  one 
of  the  first  fruits  of  the  resurrection  light.     Perhaps 

212 


"He  Cancth....by  Name." 

their  wonderful  experience  had  made  them  all  so 
painfully  conscious  of  the  sin  of  their  recent  deser- 
tion that  they  had  lost  the  very  roots  of  a  harsh 
censoriousness. 

And  I  am  glad  that  Thomas  himself  had  not 
turned  his  back  upon  those  whom  he  regarded  as 
his  credulous  fellow-disciples.  It  so  frequently 
happens  that,  when  a  man  cannot  fully  accept  the 
faith  of  his  fellows,  he  severs  himself  entirely  from 
their  companionship  and  communion.  This  doubter 
might  have  said,  "  For  me  the  matter  is  settled.  The 
evidence  is  overwhelming.  My  judgment  is  final. 
I  saw  the  ghastly  scenes  on  Calvary.  I  heard  His 
groans,  and  that  one  great  cry  that  filled  us  all  with 
fear.  I  saw  the  spear-thrust,  and  the  expiration  of 
the  last  breath.  For  me  the  promising  crusade  is 
sunk  in  the  abyss  of  an  endless  night."  "  Except 
I  shall  see  in  His  hand  the  print  of  the  nails  .  .  . 
I  will  not  believe."  And  yet  "  the  disciples  were 
within,  and  Thomas  with  them."  "  Then  came 
Jesus." 

"  I  know  My  sheep."  "  He  calleth  His  sheep 
by  name."  And  he  knew  and  called  Thomas.  The 
risen  Lord  came  to  him  with  infinite  tenderness. 
"  Peace  be  unto  you,"  and  I  think  perhaps  He 
directed  His  look  more  particularly  upon  the 
doubter.  Do  you  think  the  Master  needed  to  have 
gone  further  ?     He  had  not  yet  shown  His  hands 

213 


Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way* 

or  His  feet,  but  He  had  done  enough.  The  breath- 
ing of  the  blessing  of  peace  upon  this  band  of  faith- 
less deserters  was  the  grandest  revelation  of  the 
risen  Lord.  "  Thomas,  reach  hither  thy  finger,  and 
behold  My  hands ;  and  reach  hither  thy  hand  and 
thrust  it  into  My  side."  I  don't  think  Thomas  ever 
did  it.  I  think  he  tried  to  break  in  upon  the  speech 
of  his  Master,  and  check  the  painful  repetition  of 
his  own  proud  speech.  Indeed,  the  record  reads 
to  me  as  though  Thomas  leaped  in  with  the  inter- 
ruption, "  My  Lord  and  my  God !  "  He  did  not 
want  the  evidence  of  hands  and  feet.  The  great 
proof  that  the  old  Master  was  with  them  again  was 
found  in  His  marvellous  love  and  undimmed  friend- 
ship for  a  band  of  men  who  had  deserted  and  be- 
trayed Him!  I  go  a  little  back  in  the  dark  story, 
and  I  read  a  phrase  like  this :  "  Art  thou  not  then 
also  one  of  this  Man's  disciples  .?  "  .  .  .  "  I  am 
not."  And  I  read  again,  "  And  they  all  forsook 
Him  and  fled."  And  now,  the  deserted  Lord  stands 
again  in  their  midst,  and  His  words  fall  upon  them 
like  gracious  rain  :  "  Peace  be  unto  you."  That  is 
the  revelation  which  won  the  heart  and  confidence 
of  Thomas.  And  that  is  how  Thomas  will  always 
be  won  ;  not  by  nail  prints,  not  by  the  witness  of 
any  physical  signs,  but  by  the  manifestation  of 
spiritual  glory!  And  so  I  would  say  to  any  soul 
troubled  by  misgivings  to-day,  Don't  forsake  the 

214 


"He   Caneth....by  Name." 

upper  room ;  don't  break  thy  fellowship  with  thy ., 
fellows ;  keep  upon  thy  knees ;  bow  in  reverence 
before  the  unspeakable  presence  ;  watch  for  the 
signs  of  His  coming  in  the  realm  of  thy  spirit ;  watch 
for  suggestions  and  powers  which  come  to  the  secret 
places  of  the  soul,  and  thou  shalt  be  led  into  a 
strength  and  quietness  of  communion,  which  will 
be  proof  to  thee  of  the  breathings  of  the  Master's 
peace. 

Simon  Petcr*s  Reconciliation* 

(3)  "  So  when  they  had  dined  Jesus  saith  to  Simon 
Peter,  Simon !  "  "  He  calleth  His  sheep  by  name."  I 
wonder  what  the  risen  Lord  will  say  to  him  ?  The 
denial  was  only  a  few  steps  back  in  the  dark  way. 
"  Art  thou  also  one  of  His  disciples  ?  "  "  I  am  not." 
That  denial  was  never  out  of  Peter's  mind.  He  felt 
he  could  never  make  another  vow.  He  was  the 
first  to  spring  out  of  the  boat  when  the  Lord  called, 
but  he  knew  not  what  to  say.  He  longed  that  the 
dark  yesterday  might  be  all  undone,  blotted  out, 
and  that  he  might  have  another  chance.  What 
will  the  Lord  say  to  him  ?  "  Simon,  .  .  . 
lovest  thou  Me  ?  "  Was  it  half-critical,  half-ironical, 
a  little  condemnatory  ?  Was  it  a  sentence  with  an 
index  pointing  back  to  his  denial  ?  It  may  have 
been.  To  Peter  it  was  ;  but  whatever  the  Lord  had 
said  would  have  brought  the  dark  hour  back  to 

215 


Brooks   by  the   Traveller's  Way. 

Peter's  mind  and  heart.  But  it  was  something 
deeper  than  all  this.  Christ  wanted  to  comfort  this 
poor,  self-distrusting  soul.  "  Lovest  thou  Me .?  " 
It  is  more  than  a  question ;  it  is  an  appeal,  an  ex- 
pression of  the  Master's  hunger.  Only  love  hun- 
gers for  love.  Mere  power  hungers  for  obedience. 
When  you  do  not  love  a  person  you  care  nothing 
for  his  love!  But  if  you  love,  how  you  hunger 
for  love !  "  Lovest  thou  Me  ?  "  The  appeal  for 
Peter's  love  expresses  the  Master's  love.  What 
the  Saviour  longed  for  He  was  giving.  "  Lovest 
thou  Me  ?  "  implies  "  I  love  thee."  The  Lord  saw 
the  love  that  dare  not  confess  itself.  He  beheld 
the  springs  of  affection  welling  up  in  Peter's  heart. 
But  Peter  was  afraid  to  tell  it!  Yet  the  Lord 
wanted  the  confession.  He  knew  that  confession 
would  break  the  alienation,  and  reconciliation  would 
be  complete.  "  Confess  again,  Simon !  "  The 
Lord  saw  in  Peter  a  love  that  would  be  faithful  unto 
death.  In  that  self-distrustful  soul  before  Him  He 
beheld  a  martyred  Peter  wearing  a  martyr's  crown. 
"  Lovest  thou  Me  .?  "  "  Thou  knowest  that  I  love 
Thee !  "  In  that  confession  the  alienation  was 
ended,  and  the  old  confidence  more  than  restored. 
"  He  knew  what  was  in  man."  "  He  calleth  His 
sheep  by  name." 


^U 


F.  W.  S.  Clarke,   Ltd,,   Publishers'   Printers,   Leicester. 


Princeton  Theological   Seminary   Libraries 


1    1012  01247  0086 


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